me one knocked.

It was quarter of nine. It occurred to Persis that some one of the
neighbors must be ill. There seemed no other explanation for such a
summons at that hour. She crossed the room hurriedly and opened the
door.

A man stood outside, and after a moment of hesitation he entered,
putting out his hand.

"Good evening, Miss Dale. I hope you haven't forgotten me."

Persis recalled afterward with the amazement self-discovery so
frequently entails, that the one thought for which her mind had room
was an intense thankfulness that she had arrayed herself in the gray
dress. That emotion was infinitely removed from vanity. The new gown
had become an armor. Except for its aid she would have been at too
great a disadvantage in this encounter.

The hand she extended was quite steady. "Of course I haven't forgotten
you, Justin. Won't you sit down?"

Justin pulled up a chair for her before seating himself. He had an
impulse to gain time, the result of being taken by surprise. This was
not quite the Persis he had expected to find. In recalling that early
affair of the heart with the indulgent smile its absurdity demanded,
Justin's imagination had drawn an unflattering sketch of the object of
his boyish devotion. But his first glance told him that Persis Dale
was still a good-looking woman, with an unmistakable dignity of manner,
and, surprising as it seemed, some commendable ideas as to dress. His
eyes dwelt on her with approval. He really wished he had called
earlier.

They talked for a little of the most obvious matters as old friends
will, meeting after many years. He was less at ease than she, and
asked her permission to smoke, finding the manipulation of his
cigarette a help in concealing if not overcoming his unwonted sense of
embarrassment. The talk turned presently to common acquaintances,
dangerous ground, he realized, though he asked himself what other
interest they had in common. Persis was able to give him considerable
information concerning friends, some of whose very names he had
forgotten. She left him to direct the conversation as he would. He
reflected that she was more quiet than he would have expected to find
her, more reserved, but by no means a woman to laugh at. That had been
his mistake.

He was lighting his second cigarette when he caught sight of the
plush-framed photograph. He stared till his match went out, and
rising, crossed the room. As he scrutinized the like