ant little retreat on the
other side of the house, luring the eye through a half-open door. A
little to the back, and off the beaten track, this nook seemed to have
escaped the irruption of guests altogether.

"My lodge, as I live!" said Canning, with interest. "And, for once, I
really don't believe we'll find a spoony couple sitting in the best
place. Let's advance casually, yet with lightning speed...."

They passed out of the drawing-room into the hall, the hum of various
gaiety in their ears. No voices reached them from the rest-haven ahead.
Carlisle was suddenly silent. A subtle and thrilling sense of expectancy
possessed her, making talk somewhat difficult....

However, on the very threshold of privacy, her agreeable feelings met
with a cool _douche_. A brazen couple _was_ already there, sitting in
the best place. In this world of trouble there always, always was. The
fact was disappointing enough, to say the least of it, but what made
matters worse was that it was impossible merely to exclaim reprovingly,
as one usually does, "Oh, there's somebody _here_!" and step back at
once. Carlisle saw in the first glance that the girl in the best place
was no other than her special friend Mattie Allen, already looking
around over her shoulder, spying her. To withdraw from Mattie, under
these circumstances, was simply not to be thought of.

She gave Canning a quick, backward, upward look which said, plainer than
print, "How long, O Lord, how long?" Recomposing her features hastily,
she stepped on in.

"Oh, _Mats!_ It's you at last! We've been looking everywhere for you.
Mr. Canning was _so_ anxious to meet you...."

She ended dead. The intruding "couple" had risen together, turning; and
Carlisle saw, with the suddenest and oddest little sinking sensation,
that the male half of it, Mattie's astounding capture, was the lame
physician from the slums, he whose face and words had become
inextricably a part of the most disturbing memories of her life.

She, in her radiance, had met the slum doctor's eye with a shock of
recognition; she looked at once away. She felt like one who has walked
singing into a malicious trap. Why, oh, why, need the man have been
ambushed here, of all places under the sun, obtruding his undesired
presence and marplot countenance once again on her and Mr. Canning?...

However, if there was no withdrawing, neither was there the slightest
break in the smooth outer continuity of things. Dear Mattie (