evidence of newness. But on this gloomy freezing
winter night no one could have the heart to say that the rich fabrics
were not full of comfort both to the eye and touch, and Anne, sinking
into one of the easy-chairs, uncertain what to do, was at least not at
all uncertain as to the comfort of the cushioned back; it was luxurious.

Later, in her own room, she sat looking at the unexpected gifts which
faced her from all sides. What should she do? It was not right to force
them upon her; and yet how like him was the lavish quick generosity! In
her poverty the gift seemed enormous; yet it was not. The little home
possessed few rooms, had seemed hardly more than a toy house to the city
workmen who had hastily filled it. But to Anne it seemed magical. Books
had been bought for her also, the well-proved standard works which
Dexter always selected for his own reading. In his busy life this
American had not had time to study the new writers; he was the one
person left who still quoted Addison. After looking at the books, Anne,
opening the closet door by chance, saw a long cedar case upon the floor;
it was locked, but the key was in an envelope bearing her name. She
opened the case; a faint fragrance floated out, as, from its wrappings,
she drew forth an India shawl, dark, rich, and costly enough for a
duchess. There was a note inside the case from Dexter--a note hastily
written in pencil:

* * * * *

"DEAR MISS DOUGLAS,--I do not know whether this is anything you can
wear, but at least it is warm. On the night I first met you you
were shivering, and I have thought of it ever since. Please accept
the shawl, therefore, and the other trifles, from your friend, G. D."

* * * * *

The trifles were furs--sable. Here, as usual, Dexter had selected the
costly; he knew no other way. And thus surrounded by all the new luxury
of the room, with the shawl and the furs in her hands, Anne stood, an
image of perplexity.

The next day the giver came out. She received him gravely. There was a
look in her eyes which told him that he had not won her approval.

"Of course I do not intend to trouble you often with visits," he said,
as he gave his furred overcoat to Li. "But one or two may be allowed, I
think, from such an old friend."

"And to such a desolate girl."

"Desolate no longer," he answered, choosing to ignore the reproach of
the phrase.

He installed himself in one