s that was a good reason why
he began a composition and did not carry it through to its conclusion.

"That was a trick of his mother's," said Cleigh, still addressing the
fire. "All the fine things in him he got from her. I gave him his
shoulders, but I guess that's about all."

Mrs. Norman did not turn her head. She had already learned that she wasn't
expected to reply unless Cleigh looked at her directly.

"There's a high wind outside. More rain, probably. But that's October in
these parts. You'll like it in Hawaii. Never any of this brand of weather.
I may be able to put the yacht into commission."

"The sea!" she said in a little frightened whisper.

* * * * *

"Doorbells!" said Dennison with gentle mockery. "Jane, you're always
starting up when you hear one. Still hanging on? It isn't Cunningham's
willingness to fulfill his promise; it's his ability I doubt. A thousand
and one things may upset his plans."

"I know. But, win or lose, he was to let me know."

"The poor devil! I never dared say so to Father, but when I learned that
Cunningham meant no harm to you I began to boost for him. I like to see a
man win against huge odds, and that's what he has been up against."

"Denny, I've never asked before; I've been a little afraid to, but did you
see Flint when the crew left?"

"I honestly didn't notice; I was so interested in the disreputable old
hooker that was to take them off."

She sighed. Fragments of that night were always recurring in her dreams.

The door opened and the ancient butler entered. His glance roved until it
caught the little tuft of iron-gray hair that protruded above the rim of
the chair by the fire. Noiselessly he crossed the room.

"Beg pardon, sir," he said, "but a van arrived a few minutes ago with a
number of packing cases. The men said they were for you, sir. The cases
are in the lower hall. Any orders, sir?"

Cleigh rose.

"Cases? Benson, did you say--cases?"

"Yes, sir. I fancy some paintings you've ordered, sir."

Cleigh stood perfectly still. The butler eyed him with mild perturbation.
Rarely he saw bewilderment on his master's countenance.

"Cases?"

"Yes, sir. Fourteen or fifteen of them, sir."

Cleigh felt oddly numb. For days now he had denied to himself the reason
for his agitation whenever the telephone or doorbell rang. Hope! It had
not served to crush it down, to buffet it aside by ironical commentaries
on the wea