ing had he used his
eyes. Each time he has been bruised he has fancied that the world struck
him, when in reality the wound was self-inflicted."

"Has he no friends--no hobby which can take him out of himself?"

"He believes himself to be friendless, but he has a hobby; I discovered
it when I was at his villa yesterday. Do you happen by any chance to
know anything of the artistic side of bookmaking?"

"I took some lessons from Cobden-Sanderson while we were in London two
winters ago, but I haven't done much with what I learned."

"Did you really?" Huntington stopped short and looked at her in genuine
surprise. "That is a curious coincidence! I hadn't the remotest idea,
when I asked the question, that you knew there was anything in a book
except the story. Well, that does simplify matters! Hamlen has a
hand-press and a miniature bindery, and has made some really exquisite
volumes. It is his one remaining human trait. I've known the books for
years, but no one could find out who made them. Well, well! I promise
that you shall see Hamlen this afternoon in a mood quite different from
the one you saw him in the other night; you shall know the man as I know
him, and better than he knows himself!"

* * * * *

Huntington noticed a new light in Hamlen's eyes as he greeted them at
the villa. The man was more reserved in the presence of a third person,
but Huntington was relieved to find that the fact of Merry's coming did
not throw his host back into that restrained attitude which he
manifested when first they met.

"I have brought you another congenial soul," Huntington explained.

"Can there be such--for me?" Hamlen demanded, but his guest continued as
if he had not heard.

"Quite accidentally I find that Miss Merry has been a pupil of
Cobden-Sanderson's, and I want her to see what you have done in this
miniature island press of yours."

"I should be so interested," Merry exclaimed eagerly.

"How can it interest any one but me?" Hamlen asked incredulously. "I am
parading my inmost self in public, and it seems indecent."

"I should not wish to intrude--" the girl began but Hamlen held up a
deprecating hand, and the expression on his face refuted the apparent
lack of courtesy.

"I am sure you won't misunderstand, Miss Thatcher, being, as Mr.
Huntington says, a congenial soul. It is I who am apologizing. To have
any one show interest in what I do is a new experience, and I hesitate
fo