ils," snapped
Mrs. Boyer. And she did with great thoroughness.

We trace a life by its scars. Destiny, marching on by a thousand painful
steps, had left its usual mark, a footprint on a naked soul. The soul
was Harmony's; the foot--was it not encased at that moment in Mrs.
Boyer's comfortable house shoes?

Anna was very late that night. Peter, having put Mrs. Boyer on her car,
went back quickly. He had come out without his overcoat, and with the
sunset a bitter wind had risen, but he was too indignant to be cold. He
ran up the staircase, hearing on all sides the creaking and banging with
which the old house resented a gale, and burst into the salon of Maria
Theresa.

Harmony was sitting sidewise in a chair by the tea-table with her face
hidden against its worn red velvet. She did not look up when he entered.
Peter went over and put a hand on her shoulder. She quivered under it
and he took it away.

"Crying?"

"A little," very smothered. "Just dis-disappointment. Don't mind me,
Peter."

"You mean about the pupil?"

Harmony sat up and looked at him. She still wore her hat, now more than
ever askew, and some of the dye from the velvet had stained her cheek.
She looked rather hectic, very lovely.

"Why did she change so when she saw you?"

Peter hesitated. Afterward he thought of a dozen things he might have
said, safe things. Not one came to him.

"She--she is an evil-thinking old woman, Harry," he said gravely.

"She did not approve of the way we are living here, is that it?"

"Yes."

"But Anna?"

"She did not believe there was an Anna. Not that it matters," he added
hastily. "I'll make Anna go to her and explain. It's her infernal
jumping to a conclusion that makes me crazy."

"She will talk, Peter. I am frightened."

"I'll take Anna to-night and we'll go to Boyer's. I'll make that woman
get down on her knees to you. I'll--"

"You'll make bad very much worse," said Harmony dejectedly. "When a
thing has to be explained it does no good to explain it."

The salon was growing dark. Peter was very close to her again. As in the
dusky kitchen only a few days before, he felt the compelling influence
of her nearness. He wanted, as he had never wanted anything in his life
before, to take her in his arms, to hold her close and bid defiance to
evil tongues. He was afraid of himself. To gain a moment he put a chair
between them and stood, strong hands gripping its back, looking down at
her.

"There is one t