he last few hours seemed to have been
suddenly blotted out, though he could not have told why. The remembrance
of that glance still stung him, but aside from that, he felt his whole
soul filled with an inexplicable antagonism towards this man.

"I hardly know yet just what I do think of him," he answered, slowly; "I
have not formed a definite opinion of him, but I think, as your daughter
says, he somehow seems the last man whom I would have expected you to
associate yourself with."

Mr. Underwood frowned. "I don't generally make mistakes in people," he
said, rather gruffly; "if I'm mistaken in this man, it will be the first
time."

Nothing further was said on the subject, though it remained uppermost in
the minds of both, with the result that their conversation was rather
spasmodic and desultory. At the dinner-table, Kate was quick to observe
the unusual silence, and, intuitively connecting it in some way with the
new partnership, refrained alike from question or comment regarding
either that subject or Mr. Walcott, while it was a rule with Mrs. Dean
never to refer to her brother's business affairs unless he first alluded
to them himself.

The evening passed more pleasantly, as Kate coaxed her father into
telling some reminiscences of his early western life, which greatly
interested Darrell. Something of the old restlessness had returned to
him, however. He spent a wakeful night, and was glad when morning came
and he could return to his work.

As he came out of the house at an early hour to set forth on his long
ride he found Kate engaged in feeding Trix with lumps of sugar. She
greeted him merrily, and as he started down the avenue he was followed
by a rippling laugh and a shower of roses, one of which he caught and
fastened in his buttonhole, but on looking back over his shoulder she
had vanished, and only Duke was visible.

_Chapter XIII_

MR. UNDERWOOD "STRIKES" FIRST

The ensuing days were filled with work demanding close attention and
concentration of thought, but often in the long, cool twilight, while
Darrell rested from his day's work before entering upon the night's
study, he recalled his visit to The Pines with a degree of pleasure
hitherto unknown. He had found Kate Underwood far different from his
anticipations, though just what his anticipations had been he did not
stop to define. There was at times a womanly grace and dignity in her
bearing which he would have expected from her portrait