ted so that some of the rooms were already finished, and stood,
furnished and immaculate, ready for tenancy.

In that which had been Roger Tabor's studio sat Ariel, alone. She had
caused some chests and cases, stored there, to be opened, and had taken
out of them a few of Roger's canvases and set them along the wall.
Tears filled her eyes as she looked at them, seeing the tragedy of
labor the old man had expended upon them; but she felt the recompense:
hard, tight, literal as they were, he had had his moment of joy in each
of them before he saw them coldly and knew the truth. And he had been
given his years of Paris at last: and had seen "how the other fellows
did it."

A heavy foot strode through the hall, coming abruptly to a halt in the
doorway, and turning, she discovered Martin Pike, his big
Henry-the-Eighth face flushed more with anger than with the heat. His
hat was upon his head, and remained there, nor did he offer any token
or word of greeting whatever, but demanded to know when the work upon
the house had been begun.

"The second morning after my return," she answered.

"I want to know," he pursued, "why it was kept secret from me, and I
want to know quick."

"Secret?" she echoed, with a wave of her hand to indicate the noise
which the workmen were making.

"Upon whose authority was it begun?"

"Mine. Who else could give it?"

"Look here," he said, advancing toward her, "don't you try to fool me!
You haven't done all this by yourself. Who hired these workmen?"

Remembering her first interview with him, she rose quickly before he
could come near her. "Mr. Louden made most of the arrangements for
me," she replied, quietly, "before he went away. He will take charge
of everything when he returns. You haven't forgotten that I told you I
intended to place my affairs in his hands?"

He had started forward, but at this he stopped and stared at her
inarticulately.

"You remember?" she said, her hands resting negligently upon the back
of the chair. "Surely you remember?"

She was not in the least afraid of him, but coolly watchful of him.
This had been her habit with him since her return. She had seen little
of him, except at table, when he was usually grimly laconic, though now
and then she would hear him joking heavily with Sam Warden in the yard,
or, with evidently humorous intent, groaning at Mamie over Eugene's
health; but it had not escaped Ariel that he was, on his part, watchful
of herse