well?"
He didn't think he had, judging from his general appearance, but he
wanted to be sure in case St. George asked him.

Harry settled in his chair, his broad shoulders filling the back. The
news of Kate's wedding was what he had expected. Perhaps it was already
over. He was glad, however, the information had come to him unsought.
For an instant he made no reply to Pawson's inquiry, then he answered
slowly: "Yes, and no. I have made a little money--not much--but
some--not enough to pay Uncle George everything I owe him--not yet;
another time I shall do better. I was down with fever for a while and
that cost me a good deal of what I had saved. But I HAD to come back.
I met a man who told me Uncle George was ruined; that he had left this
house and that somebody had put a sign on it, I thought at first that
this must refer to you and your old arrangement in the basement, until I
questioned him closer. I knew how careless he had always been about his
money transactions, and was afraid some one had taken advantage of him.
That's why I was so upset when I came in a while ago: I thought they had
stolen his furniture as well. The ship Mohican--one of the old Barkeley
line--was sailing the day I reached the coast and I got aboard and
worked my passage home. I learned to do that on my way out. I learned
to wear a beard too. Not very becoming, is it?"--and a low, forced laugh
escaped his lips. "But shaving is not easy aboard ship or in the mines."

Pawson made no reply. He had been studying his guest the closer while
he was talking, his mind more on the man than on what he was saying.
The old Harry, which the dim light of the hall and room had hidden, was
slowly coming back to him:--the quick turn of the head; the way his lips
quivered when he laughed; the exquisitely modelled nose and brow, and
the way the hair grew on the temples. The tones of his voice, too, had
the old musical ring. It was the same madcap, daredevil boy mellowed and
strengthened by contact with the outside world. Next he scrutinized his
hands, their backs bronzed and roughened by contact with the weather,
and waited eagerly until some gesture opened the delicately turned
fingers, exposing the white palms, and felt relieved and glad when
he saw that they showed no rough usage. His glance rested on his
well-turned thighs, slender waist, and broad, strong shoulders and
arms--and then his eyes--so clear, and his skin so smooth and fresh--a
clean soul in a clea