story that she had entitled _Hypocrites_. And
_she_ had tried desperately to "lay about her with a bludgeon," and say
biting, savage things of hypocritical human nature, and hold a
relentless mirror up to its little faults. Kinross would have been
convulsed could he have seen it.

Miss Bibby lay in her quiet bed and illustrated Kinross for herself,
since she had never been able to find a portrait of him in any magazine.
He was very tall, austere-looking, very thin; the only smile that ever
crossed his face was a cynical, a sardonic one. His hair and his eyes
were black. He was clean-shaven and his lip and chin were blue.

And she would meet him--she could hardly help meeting him. Possibly she
would never get so far as knowing him to speak to, but she would see his
tall, spare figure moving slowly about the verandah as he wove his
plots, and perhaps the shadow of his head on the blind of a lighted
window far into the night.

The fever in her blood drove her from bed. She got up and bathed, and
dressed herself with the punctilious care she always bestowed upon her
toilet.

Over the choice of her morning dress she hesitated a moment. She wore
dainty washing blouses, and neatly-cut serge skirts as a rule; but this
morning something induced her to don a limp lavender muslin that took
all the freshness from her cheeks.

Then she went out to the faithful performance of her duties, which no
amount of fever in her blood could make her neglect. The hot-water
ordeal was gone through, the children were turned out speckless from
their bedrooms, the bedclothes were put to air, and not even her own
"deep-breathing exercises" were omitted.

But then she missed Max and Lynn. And after a world of trouble dragged
it from Pauline that they had actually gone across to "Tenby" to try to
induce Hugh Kinross to give his orders for bacon and such things to
Larkin.

Hugh Kinross and bacon! Miss Bibby ran down to the gate almost choking
with agitation and distress.

There was a figure crossing the road, with Lynn held by the hand, and
the red tricycle, and Max flanking it on the other side. It was a figure
of merely medium height, more than a trifle inclined to stoutness, with
an ordinary kindly face and shrewd eyes. He wore a white linen suit,
creased all over with bad packing, and a soft shirt with a low collar.
When he took off his old Panama hat, Miss Bibby saw, quite with a shock,
the bald patch at the back of his head.

"Good-m