made men and women, and if you
had been meant to live alone dabbling in music you wouldn't have been
given your mother's face. Now, I don't often express myself this way, but
I've had a letter from Captain Jackson Cheyne, U. S. Cavalry, which reads
as straight as I've found the man to be. Nothing wrong with that family,
and they've dollars to spare; but if you like the man I can put down two
for every one of his. Well, I might write a good deal, but you're too much
like your father to be taken in. You want dollars and station, and I can
see you get them, but in a contract of this kind the man is everything.
Make quite sure you're getting the right one."

There was a little more to the same purpose, and when she slipped the
letter into her pocket Hetty Torrance smiled.

"The dear old man!" she said. "It is very like him; but whether Jake is
the right one or not is just what I can't decide."

Then she sat still, looking straight in front of her, a very attractive
picture, as some of the hurrying men who turned to glance at her seemed to
find, in her long light dress. Her face, which showed a delicate oval
under the big white hat, was a trifle paler than is usual with most
Englishwomen of her age, and the figure the thin fabric clung about less
decided in outline. Still, the faint warmth in her cheeks emphasized the
clear pallor of her skin, and there was a depth of brightness in the dark
eyes that would have atoned for a good deal more than there was in her
case necessity for. Her supple slenderness also became Hetty Torrance
well, and there was a suggestion of nervous energy in her very pose. In
addition to all this, she was a rich man's daughter, who had been well
taught in the cities, and had since enjoyed all that wealth and refinement
could offer her. It had also been a cause of mild astonishment to the
friends she had spent the past year with, that with these advantages, she
had remained Miss Torrance. They had been somewhat proud of their guest,
and opportunities had not been wanting had she desired to change her
status.

While she sat there musing, pale-faced citizens hurried past, great
locomotives crawled to and fro, and long trains of cars, white with the
dust of five hundred leagues, rolled in. Swelling in deeper cadence, the
roar of the city came faintly through the din; but, responsive to the
throb of life as she usually was, Hetty Torrance heard nothing of it then,
for she was back in fancy on the grey-