girl, who sat,
knees crossed, one long, slim foot nervously swinging above its shadow
on the floor.

In spite of his youth there was in his manner, if not in his voice,
something tinged with fatigue. She thought of what Kathleen had said
about him; looked up, instinctively questioning him with curious,
uncomprehending eyes; then her gaze wandered, became lost in smiling
retrospection as she thought of Dysart, peevish; and she frankly
regretted him and his dance.

Young Mallett stirred, passed a rather bony hand over his shaven upper
lip, and said abruptly: "I never expected you'd grow up like this.
You've turned into a different kind of girl. Once you were chubby of
cheek and limb. Do you remember how you used to fight?"

"Did I?"

"Certainly. You hit me twice in the eye because I lost my temper
sparring with Scott. Your hands were small but heavy in those days.... I
imagine they're heavier now."

She laughed, clasped both pretty hands over her knee, and tilted back
against the palm, regarding him from dark, velvety eyes.

"You were a curiously fascinating child," he said. "I remember how fast
you could run, and how your hair flew--it was thick and dark, with
rather sunny high lights; and you were always running--always on the
go.... You were a remarkably just girl; that I remember. You were
absolutely fair to everybody."

"I was a very horrid little scrub," she said, watching him over her
gently waving fan, "with a dreadful temper," she added.

"Have you it now?"

"Yes. I get over it quickly. Do you find Scott very much changed?"

"Well, not as much as you. Do you find Naida changed?"

"Not nearly as much as you."

They smiled. The slight embarrassment born of polite indifference
brightened into amiable interest, tinctured by curiosity.

"Duane, have you been studying painting all these years?"

"Yes. What have you been doing all these years?"

"Nothing." A shadow fell across her face. "It has been lonely--until
recently. I began to live yesterday."

"You used to tell me you were lonely," he nodded.

"I was. You and Naida were godsends." Something of the old thrill
stirred her recollection. She leaned forward, looking at him curiously;
the old memory of him was already lending him something of the forgotten
glamour.

"How tall you are!" she said; "how much thinner and--how very
impressively grown-up you are, Duane. I didn't expect you to be entirely
a man so soon--with such a--an odd--expressio