unds just remarked upon.
Occasionally he shifted his position, but cautiously, as though he
feared to awaken some one. The three oil portraits stared at him with
all the reserved aloofness of their painted eyes. He began to doubt
whether the man had announced him at all.

Then, breaking the stillness with almost startling abruptness, he heard
a clear, high voice saying something at the top of the stairs outside.
A rhythmical SWISH of skirts, punctuated by the light PAT-PAT of a
girl tripping downstairs, brought him to his feet. A moment later the
curtains parted and she entered, holding out her hand.

"Oh, I did keep you waiting such a long time!" she cried.

He stood holding her hand, suddenly unable to say a word, looking at her
hungrily. A flood of emotion, of which he had had no prevision, swelled
up within him to fill his throat. An almost irresistible impulse all but
controlled him to crush her to him, to kiss her lips and her throat, to
lose his fingers in the soft, shadowy fineness of her hair. The crest
of the wave passed almost immediately, but it left him shaken. A faint
colour deepened under the transparence of her skin; her fathomless black
eyes widened ever so little; she released her hand.

"It was good of you to come so promptly," said she. "I'm so anxious to
hear all about the dear people at Redding."

She settled gracefully in one of the little chairs. Orde sat down, once
more master of himself, but still inclined to devour her with his gaze.
She was dressed in a morning gown, all laces and ribbons and long,
flowing lines. Her hair was done low on the back of her head and on the
nape of her neck. The blood ebbed and flowed beneath her clear skin.
A faint fragrance of cleanliness diffused itself about her--the cool,
sweet fragrance of daintiness. They entered busily into conversation.
Her attitudes were no longer relaxed and languidly graceful as in the
easy chairs under the lamplight. She sat forward, her hands crossed on
her lap, a fire smouldering deep beneath the cool surface lights of her
eyes.

The sounds in the next room increased in volume, as though several
people must have entered that apartment. In a moment or so the curtains
to the hall parted to frame the servant.

"Mrs. Bishop wishes to know, miss," said that functionary, "if you're
not coming to breakfast."

Orde sprang to his feet.

"Haven't you had your breakfast yet?" he cried, conscience stricken.

"Didn't you gather the f