r little Leah! a month later they robbed her of her chief
beauty by cutting off her hair. Old Goliath nearly sobbed as he told
me."

Anna's face was full of sympathy. "Mr. Keston must be very fond of
her," she returned in such a surprised and dubious tone that Malcolm
laughed outright.

"You are not very flattering to poor little Verity," he observed, "but
I can assure you that Goliath worships the ground she walks on. They
are the happiest couple in the world. Amias is a good fellow and a fine
artist, who will make his mark some day when he has got rid of his
cranks, but he has not an ounce of his wife's brains; she is the
cleverest and brightest little woman I ever met, and she has a heart
big enough to hold the whole world."

Anna pondered over this splendid eulogium with some surprise; then she
said quickly--

"You must allow me a little time before I can fairly judge of your
friends, Malcolm. I know so little about Mrs. Keston. I remember you
once promised to tell me about her early life, but somehow there has
been no opportunity."

"Let us go out on the balcony and have our talk there, while I enjoy a
cigarette," was Malcolm's answer to this. "We must not go back to the
studio for another hour;" and then Anna took possession of one
deck-chair while Malcolm occupied the other.

There was a short silence while Malcolm lighted his cigarette. Anna
looked down on the broad gray river and a passing steamer with eyes
shining with happiness. To her the hour was simply perfect. Malcolm was
beside her, and in his kindest and most brotherly mood. What did it
matter on what subject they talked? Verity or Cedric or Lincoln's
Inn--anything that interested him would interest her. When Malcolm held
forth on his favourite theories, Anna would listen with unflagging
attention, and never once hint at her lack of comprehension, although
the effort to understand him had made her head ache. The very sound of
his voice was music in her ears, and this unconscious flattery was very
soothing to his masculine intellect.

Malcolm, who had masterful ways of his own, was bent on convincing Anna
that she was wrong in her estimate of Verity Keston, and he was very
willing at this moment to tell her all he knew of her.

"I have heard all about things from Goliath," he began, "and Verity
often talks about her old life to me. Neither of them make any secret
about it. She was only seven or eight when he first saw her; she had
just lost he