she gave
him was at once soft and strong,--an epitome of the woman. "Theo was
lunching out with Colonel Mayhew--they are both very full of that book
of his on the Hill Tribes--and I have been devoting most of my time to
this very exacting person!"

Lenox caressed the child's red-gold hair with a cautious reverent hand,
and a contraction of envy at his heart.

"What a beautiful little chap he is! Begins to look an out-and-out
Meredith already. Desmond must be tremendously proud of him."

She smiled and pressed him closer.

"He is; and I'm nearly as bad! One son, three fools, you know! Poor
little Paul, it's not fair to call him names when he can't hit back."

"You called him after Wyndham?"

"Yes. They're like brothers, those two. Now let me get rid of him,
and we'll have a quiet talk till Theo comes back. Sit down and smoke,
please."

He complied; and she, returning, established herself beside her
work-table, and took up an elaborate bit of smocking without question
or remark.

His trouble and stress of mind were very evident to her; but she was
one of those rare women who are chary of questions--who, for all their
desire to help and serve, never approach too near, or say the word too
much, which was, perhaps, one reason why men found her so restful, and
instinctively talked to her about themselves.

But Lenox was long in beginning.

By imperceptible degrees, this unsought gift of friendship was melting
the morsel of ice at his heart; was reviving in him, against his will,
that keen appreciation of a cultivated woman's sympathy and
companionship, which, among finely tempered men, is as potent a factor
in the shaping of destinies as passion, or hot-headed emotion.

For a while he permitted himself the bitter-sweet satisfaction of
merely watching her where she sat, in a shaft of sunlight, that struck
golden gleams through the burnished abundance of her hair; of noting
the grace and dignity of her pose, and speculating as to the nature of
her thoughts. His wife's reckless impulse on that fateful September
day was bringing him now within measurable distance of a very human
danger. The deep, passionate heart of him, crushed and stifled during
the past five years, was in no safe state to be brought into contact
with a lighted match. But of this danger he was, by his very nature,
sublimely unaware.

Finally he took the short pipe from his lips and spoke.

"Of course you know I have something defini