the vivacity of Anscombe's face, the twinkle of
his merry blue eyes and its general refinement made up for what
he lacked--regularity of feature. I think he had just told her
one of his good stories which he always managed to make so
humorous by a trick of pleasing and harmless exaggeration, and
they were both laughing merrily. Then she caught sight of the
doctor and her merriment evaporated like a drop of water on a hot
shovel. Distinctly I saw her pull herself together and prepare
for something.

"How do you do?" she said rapidly, rising and holding out her
slim sun-browned hand. "But I need not ask, you look so well."

"How do you do, my dear," with a heavy emphasis on the "dear" he
answered slowly. "But I needn't ask, for I see that you are in
perfect health and spirits," and he bent forward as though to
kiss her.

Somehow or other she avoided that endearment or seal of
possession. I don't quite know how, as I turned my head away,
not wishing to witness what I felt to be unpleasant. When I
looked up again, however, I saw that she had avoided it, the
scowl on his face the demureness of hers and Anscombe's evident
amusement assured me of this. She was asking about her father;
he answered that he also seemed quite well.

"Then why did you write to tell me that I ought to come as he was
not at all well?" she inquired, with a lifting of her delicate
eyebrows.

The question was never answered, for at that moment Marnham
himself appeared.

"Oh! father," she said, and rushed into his arms, while he kissed
her tenderly on both cheeks.

So I was not mistaken, thought I to myself, she does really love
this moral wreck, and what is more, he loves her, which shows
that there must be good in him. Is anyone truly bad, I wondered,
or for the matter of that, truly good either? Is it not all a
question of circumstance and blood?

Neither then or at any other time have I found an answer to the
problem. At any rate to me there seemed something beautiful
about the meeting of these two.

The influence of Miss Heda in the house was felt at once. The
boys became smarter and put on clean clothes. Vases of flowers
appeared in the various rooms; ours was turned out and cleaned, a
disagreeable process so far as we were concerned. Moreover, at
dinner both Marnham and Rodd wore dress clothes with short
jackets, a circumstance that put Anscombe and myself to shame
since we had none. It was curious to see how with th