wo he stood
petrified, trying to grasp the full significance of his act. He had never
rung the door-bell of that house,--not in all the years of his life. He had
always entered in just this way. His grandfather had given him a key when
he was thirteen,--the same key that he now held in his fingers and at which
he stared in a sort of stupefaction.

He was suddenly aware of another presence in the hall,--a figure in white
that stood near the foot of the staircase, motionless where it had been
arrested by the unexpected opening of the door,--a tall, slender figure.

He saw her hand go swiftly to her heart.

"Why--why didn't you--let me know?" she murmured in a voice so low that he
could hardly hear the words. "Why do you come in this way to--"

"What must you think of me for--for breaking in upon you--" he began,
jerkily. "I don't know what possessed me to--you see, I still have the key
I used while I lived--Oh, I'm sorry, Anne! I can't explain. It just seemed
natural to--"

"Why did you come without letting me know?" she cried, and now her voice
was shrill from the effort she made to suppress her agitation.

"I should have telephoned," he muttered. Suddenly he tore the key from the
ring. "Here! It does not belong to me. I should not have the key to your--"

"Keep it," she said, drawing back. "I want you to keep it. I shall be
happier if I know that you have the key to the place where I live. No! I
will not take it."

To her infinite surprise, he slipped the key into his pocket. She had
expected him to throw it upon the floor as she resolutely placed her hands
behind her back.

"Very well," he said, rather roughly. "It is quite safe with me. I shall
never forget myself again as I have to-day."

For the first time since entering the door, he allowed his gaze to sweep
the lofty hallway. But for the fact that he knew he had come into the
right house, he would have doubted his own senses. There was nothing here,
to remind him of the sombre, gloomy place that he had known from
childhood's earliest days. All of the massive, ugly trappings were gone,
and all of the gloom. The walls were bright, the rugs gay, the woodwork
cheerfully white. He glanced quickly down the length of the hall and--yes,
the suit of mail was gone! He was conscious of a great relief.

Then his eyes fell upon her again. A strange, wistful little smile had
appeared while his gaze went roving.

"You see that I am trying not to be a coward," she sa