throwing open a door. "Isn't this comfortable? Is
there anything you don't fancy about it? If there is, tell me frankly."

"Little sister," he said, imprisoning both her hands, "it is a
paradise--but I don't intend to come here and squat on my relatives, and
I won't!"

"Philip! You are common!"

"Oh, I know you and Austin _think_ you want me."

"Phil!"

"All right, dear. I'll--it's awfully generous of you--so I'll pay you a
visit--for a little while."

"You'll live here, that's what you'll do--though I suppose you are
dreaming and scheming to have all sorts of secret caves and queer places
to yourself--horrid, grimy, smoky bachelor quarters where you can behave
_sans-facon_."

"I've had enough of _sans-facon_" he said grimly. "After shacks and
bungalows and gun-boats and troopships, do you suppose this doesn't look
rather heavenly?"

"Dear fellow!" she said, looking tenderly at him; and then under her
breath: "What a ghastly life you have led!"

But he knew she did not refer to the military portion of his life.

He threw back his coat, dug both hands into his pockets, and began to
wander about the rooms, halting sometimes to examine nondescript
articles of ornament or bits of furniture as though politely
interested. But she knew his thoughts were steadily elsewhere.

[Illustration: "'There is no reason,' she said, 'why you should not call
this house home.'"]

Sauntering about, aware at moments that her troubled eyes were following
him, he came back, presently, to where she sat perched upon his bed.

"It all looks most inviting, Nina," he said cheerfully, seating himself
beside her. "I--well, you can scarcely be expected to understand how
this idea of a home takes hold of a man who has none."

"Yes, I do," she said.

"All this--" he paused, leisurely, to select his words--"all
this--you--the children--that jolly nursery--" he stopped again, looking
out of the window; and his sister looked at him through eyes grown
misty.

"There is no reason," she said, "why you should not call this house
home."

"N-no reason. Thank you. I will--for a few days."

"_No_ reason, dear," she insisted. "We are your own people; we are all
you have, Phil!--the children adore you already; Austin--you know what
he thinks of you; and--and I--"

"You are very kind, Ninette." He sat partly turned from her, staring at
the sunny window. Presently he slid his hand back along the bed-covers
until it touched and tightened over