im arms look very lovely.

"If ever I needed bucking, Pat, dear, I need it now!" whispered Joan,
and her eyes dimmed.

She heard the pleasant bustle below; the light laughter, the cheery
calls. She heard Raymond's voice when he greeted Nancy--it startled her
by its familiarity and its strangeness.

"He sounds as if he were in church," mused Joan. She felt as the old do
as they re-live their youth.

There was candlelight in the dining room when Joan entered. The family
were all assembled, for Doris had sent for Joan only at the last moment.

"Ken, dear, this is Joan."

Nancy said it as if she were flouting all the foolish things any one had
ever felt about Joan. Pride, deep affection, rang in her voice. "This is
Joan!"

Joan went slowly, smilingly forward. She saw Raymond's knuckles grow
white and hard as his hands gripped the back of his chair. His eyes
dilated, and for a moment he could not speak. Finally he managed:

"So this--is Joan!" and went forward to greet her.

"I reckon they will all get this shock," thought Doris; "what they have
thought about the child ought to shame them. Emily Tweksbury was always
a snob."

Martin, from under his shaggy brows, watched the scene curiously. He,
like everyone else, was, unconsciously, on guard where Nancy was
concerned. This frank surprise was gratifying for Joan, but it placed
Nancy, for a moment, to one side.

Joan had never looked lovelier; never more self-controlled. She was
holding herself, and Raymond, too, by firm will power. He must not
betray anything--he owed her and Nancy that! There was no wrong. No
suggestion of it must enter in.

In another moment the danger was over; the colour rose to Raymond's
face.

"I--I hadn't expected anything quite so--splendid," he said.

"You are very kind," Joan had her hands in his, now; "you see--I've been
wandering in strange places; I am rather an outlaw and the best any one
could do for me was to wait and let me speak for myself. I'm glad you
approve!"

"I certainly do!" Raymond said, and gratefully joined the circle as it
sat down.

As the time passed the situation caught Joan's feverish imagination; she
dared much; she was cruel but fascinating. She proposed, after dinner,
to read palms--explaining that she and Pat had learned the tricks.

At the name of "Pat" Raymond's grave eyes fixed themselves upon her.
Joan saw the firm lips draw together, and she paused in her gaiety,
sensing something she did not q