f.
Donald seemed to have returned without meeting the servant sent for him
and, seeing the light, he had looked into the library idly; but when he
saw her, he approached her quickly.

"What have you there?" he demanded of her.

She flushed at the tone. "What right have you to ask?" Her instant
impulse had been to conceal the picture, but that would make it seem
she was ashamed of it; she held it so Donald could see it if he looked.
He did look and suddenly seized the picture from her.

"Don!" she cried at him.

He stared at the picture and then up at her. "Where did you get this,
Harriet?"

"Don!"

"Where did you get it?" he repeated. "Are you ashamed to say?"

"Ashamed? Father gave it to me!"

"Your father!" Avery started; but if anything had caused him
apprehension, it instantly disappeared. "Then didn't he tell you who
this man Eaton is?"

His tone terrified her, made her confused; she snatched for the picture
but he held it from her. "Didn't he tell you what this picture is?"

"What?" she repeated.

"What did he say to you?"

"He got the picture and had me see it; he asked me if it was--Mr.
Eaton. I told him yes."

"And then didn't he tell you who Eaton was?" Avery iterated.

"What do you mean, Don?"

He put the picture down on the table beside him and, as she rushed for
it, he seized both her hands and held her before him. "Harry, dear!"
he said to her. "Harry, dear--"

"Don't call me that! Don't speak to me that way!"

"Why not?"

"I don't want you to."

"Why not?"

She struggled to free herself from him.

"I know, of course," he said. "It's because of him." He jerked his
head toward the picture on the table; the manner made her furious.

"Let me go, Don!"

"I'm sorry, dear." He drew her to him, held her only closer.

"Don; Father wants to see you! He wanted to know when he came in; he
will let you know when you can go to him."

"When did he tell you that?"

"Just now."

"When he gave you the picture?"

"Yes."

Avery had almost let her go; now he held her hard again. "Then he
wanted me to tell you about this Eaton."

"Why should he have you tell me about--Mr. Eaton?"

"You know!" he said to her.

She shrank and turned her head away and shut her eyes not to see him.
And he was the man whom, until some strange moment a few days ago, she
had supposed she was some time to marry. Amazement burned through her
now at the thought; because this man had been we