ent that the door opened and Roger came in, his arms
filled with an immense bunch of pale pink roses. She rose hurriedly,
brushing the tears away with a feeling of shame, and smiling at him.
He came close and looked with a grave face at the drops still clinging
to her lashes.

"What are those for?" he inquired in a serious tone.

"Nothing at all. If I tell you, you'll think me such a fool! I--I was
only thinking to myself how happy I was to be alive, and--and all that."

He looked down at her for a long moment with so penetrating a gaze that
she grew embarrassed.

"There--that's the look of yours I like so much," he said at last,
watching her colour rise. "You know you are just a nice child,
Esther--an awfully nice child! That's how I first thought of you."

With a gesture half-afraid he put up one finger and touched a tendril
of hair that had strayed loose on her neck. She felt shyer than
before, and turned her attention to the roses.

"For me?" she asked, burying her face in their cool depths. "How too
beautiful! I don't think I've ever seen roses so lovely before.
There's--there's something special about them, somehow," she added
truthfully.

"There is," he replied gravely, as he deposited his burden on the table.

Suddenly tongue-tied, she made an effort to speak naturally of other
matters, avoiding the personal.

"Any news of ... of that man?" she inquired.

Stupid that she still could not speak of him easily!

Roger saw that a faint shadow had darkened her upturned eyes, and it
cut him to the heart.

"No, nothing yet--but don't let that distress you. The fellow is bound
to be caught; it's only a question of time. You are not to be worried
about it. Look at me! You are worrying, this minute."

"I'm not at all," she denied stoutly. "Why should I bother about
him--now?"

For answer he drew forward the biggest arm-chair and gently made her
sit down. The slight hollow of her delicate cheek, the dark circles
under the eyes, caused him acute suffering.

"Seriously, Esther, when I think of what you have been through, when I
think that it must have left a terrible impression on you and that
nothing I can do can remove that impression, it is almost more than I
can bear. I feel it is all our fault."

"How perfectly absurd! It was nobody's fault. And you ought to be
thankful it has turned out as it has. I am, I can tell you. As for
me, I shall get over this, don't worry! I'm not neuroti