avagantly. "In it I
have all sorts of treasured clippings and jottings. The things I need
most I have pasted in. The chafing dish recipes are in an envelope. I
just happened to have them along."

She was turning the pages as she spoke. On one page, which she passed
by more hurriedly than the others, were a number of Kodak pictures. I
caught a flash of one which made my heart beat more quickly. Surely I
had a print from the same negative in my trunk.

The tiny picture was a photograph of Jack Bickett or I was very much
mistaken.

What was it doing in the scrap book of Miss Sonnot?

I put an unsteady hand out to prevent her turning the page.

It was Jack Bickett's photograph. I schooled my voice to a sort of
careless surprise:

"Why! Isn't this Jack Bickett?"

She started perceptibly. "Yes. Do you know him?"

"He is the nearest relative I have," I returned quickly, "a distant
cousin, but brought up as my brother."

Her face flushed. Her eyes shone with interest.

"Oh! then you must be his Margaret?" she cried.

As the words left Miss Sonnot's lips she gazed at me with a
half-frightened little air as if she regretted their utterance.

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Graham," she said contritely; "you must think
I have taken leave of my senses. But I have heard so much about you."

"From Mr. Bickett?" My head was whirling. I had never heard Jack speak
the name of "Sonnot." Indeed, I would never have known he had met her,
save for the accidental opening of her scrap book to his picture when
she and I were searching for chafing dish recipes.

"Oh! No, indeed. I have never seen Mr. Bickett myself."

A rosy embarrassed flush stole over her face as she spoke. Her eyes
were starry. Through my bewilderment came a thought which I voiced.

"That is his loss then. He would think so if he could see you now."

She laughed confusedly while the rosy tint of her cheeks deepened.

"I must explain to you," she said simply. "I have never seen
Mr. Bickett, but my brother is one of his friends. They used to
correspond, and I enjoyed his letters as much as Mark did. I think his
is a wonderful personality, don't you?"

"Naturally," I returned, a trifle dryly. The little nurse was
revealing more than she dreamed. There was romantic admiration in
every note in her voice. I was not quite sure that I liked it.

But I put all selfish considerations down with an iron hand and smiled
in most friendly fashion at her.

"Isn't it wonder