, was
already half a dozen steps down the stairs. At the top Joanne, for an
instant, had paused. Through that space, before the contractor had turned,
her eyes met those of John Aldous. She was smiling. Her eyes were shining
at him. Never had he seen her look at him in that way, he thought, and
never had she seemed such a perfect vision of loveliness. She was dressed
in a soft, clinging something with a flutter of white lace at her throat,
and as she came down he saw that she had arranged her hair in a marvellous
way. Soft little curls half hid themselves in the shimmer of rich coils she
had wreathed upon her head, and adorable little tendrils caressed the
lovely flush in her cheeks, and clung to the snow-whiteness of her neck.

For a moment, as Peggy Blackton went to her husband, he stood very close to
Joanne, and into his eyes she was smiling, half laughing, her beautiful
mouth aquiver, her eyes glowing, the last trace of their old suspense and
fear vanished in a new and wondrous beauty. He would not have said she was
twenty-eight now. He would have sworn she was twenty.

"Joanne," he whispered, "you are wonderful. Your hair is glorious!"

"Always--my hair," she replied, so low that he alone heard. "Can you never
see beyond my hair, John Aldous?"

"I stop there," he said. "And I marvel. It is glorious!"

"Again!" And up from her white throat there rose a richer, sweeter colour.
"If you say that again now, John Aldous, I shall never make curls for you
again as long as I live!"

"For me----"

His heart seemed near bursting with joy. But she had left him, and was
laughing with Peggy Blackton, who was showing her husband where he had
missed a stubbly patch of beard on his cheek. He caught her eyes, turned
swiftly to him, and they were laughing at him, and there came a sudden
pretty upturn to her chin as he continued to stare, and he saw again the
colour deepening in her face. When Peggy Blackton led her husband to the
stair, and drove him up to shave off the stubbly patch, Joanne found the
opportunity to whisper to him:

"You are rude, John Aldous! You must not stare at me like that!"

And as she spoke the rebellious colour was still in her face, in spite of
the tantalizing curve of her red lips and the sparkle in her eyes.

"I can't help it," he pleaded. "You are--glorious!"

During the next hour, and while they were at supper, he could see that she
was purposely avoiding his eyes, and that she spoke oftener t