him the utter indifference of
a wife, the deep contempt of a man; and a white-faced girl alone with
her memories--whatever they might be--and her thoughts, which were
painful if one might judge by her silent, rigid abstraction, and the
lower lip which, at moments, escaped, quivering, from the close-set
teeth.

When Duane rose, folding his paper with a carelessly pleasant word or
two, she looked up in a kind of naive terror--like a child startled at
prospect of being left alone. It was curious how those adrift seemed
always to glide his way. It had always been so; even stray cats followed
him in the streets; unhappy dogs trotted persistently at his heels; many
a journey had he made to the Bide-a-wee for some lost creature's sake;
many a softly purring cat had he caressed on his way through life--many
a woman.

As he strolled toward the eastern end of the terrace, Sylvia looked
after him; and, suddenly, unable to endure isolation, she rose and
followed as instinctively as her lesser sisters-errant.

It was the trotting of little footsteps behind him on the gravel that
arrested him. A glance at her face was enough; vexed, shocked, yet every
sympathy instantly aroused, he resigned himself to whatever might be
required of him; and within him a bitter mirth stirred--acrid,
unpleasant; but his smile indicated only charmed surprise.

"I didn't suppose you'd care for a stroll with me," he said; "it is
exceedingly nice of you to give me the chance."

"I didn't want to be left alone," she said.

"It is rather quiet here since our gay birds have migrated," he said in
a matter-of-fact way. "Which direction shall we take?"

"I--don't care."

"The woods?"

"No," with a shudder so involuntary that he noticed it.

"Well, then, we'll go cross country----"

She looked at her thin, low shoes and then at him.

"Certainly," he said, "that won't do, will it?"

She shook her head.

They were passing the Lodge now where his studio was and where he had
intended to pack up his canvases that afternoon.

"I'll brew you a cup of tea if you like," he said; "that is, if it's not
too unconventional to frighten you."

She smiled and nodded. Behind the smile her heavy thoughts throbbed on:
How much did this man know? How much did he suspect? And if he
suspected, how good he was in every word to her--how kind and gentle and
high-minded! And the anguish in her smile caused him to turn hastily to
the door and summon old Miller to bring