moment an air of
languor. On sitting down, he at once abandoned himself to a posture of
the completest ease, which his admirable proportions made graceful.
From his appearance one would have expected him to speak in rather loud
and decided tones; but he had a soft voice, and used it with all the
discretion of good-breeding, so that at times it seemed to caress the
ear. To this mode of utterance corresponded his smile, which was
frequent, but restrained to the expression of a delicate, good-natured
irony.

'No one had told me of your return,' were Miss Barfoot's first words as
she shook hands with him.

'I fancy because no one knew. You were the first of my kinsfolk to whom
I wrote.'

'Much honour, Everard. You look very well.'

'I am glad to be able to say the same of you. And yet I hear that you
work harder than ever.'

'Who is the source of your information about me?'

'I had an account of you from Tom, in a letter that caught me at
Constantinople.'

'Tom? I thought he had forgotten my existence. Who told him about me I
can't imagine. So you didn't come straight home from Japan?'

Barfoot was nursing his knee, his head thrown back.

'No; I loitered a little in Egypt and Turkey. Are you living quite
alone?'

He drawled slightly on the last word, its second vowel making quite a
musical note, of wonderful expressiveness. The clear decision of his
cousin's reply was a sharp contrast.

'A lady lives with me--Miss Nunn. She will join us in a moment.'

'Miss Nunn?' He smiled. 'A partner in your activity?'

'She gives me valuable help.'

'I must hear all about it--if you will kindly tell me some day. It will
interest me greatly. You always were the most interesting of our
family. Brother Tom promised to be a genius, but marriage has blighted
the hope, I fear.'

'The marriage was a very absurd one.'

'Was it? I feared so; but Tom seems satisfied. I suppose they will stay
at Madeira.'

'Until his wife is tired of her imaginary phthisis, and amuses herself
with imagining some other ailment that requires them to go to Siberia.'

'Ah, that kind of person, is she?' He smiled indulgently, and played
for a moment with the lobe of his right ear. His ears were small, and
of the ideal contour; the hand, too, thus displayed, was a fine example
of blended strength and elegance.

Rhoda came in, so quietly that she was able to observe the guest before
he had detected her presence. The movement of Miss Barfoot's ey