creation of his own mind. He had, on a boyish fancy,
built a dream of a woman with every beauty and attraction, and had been
loving it for many years, to the exclusion of all other womankind. Now
he saw the original of his dream, with the freshness and glamour gone,
not merely from the dream, but from his own eyes. Peter had met many
pretty girls, and many sweet ones since that week at the Pierces. He had
gained a very different point of view of women from that callow time.

Peter was not blunderer enough to tell Mrs. D'Alloi that he too, saw a
change. His years had brought tact, if they had not made him less
straightforward. So he merely said, "You think so?"

"Ever so much. You've really grown slender, in spite of your broad
shoulders--and your face is so--so different."

There was no doubt about it. For his height and breadth of shoulder,
Peter was now by no means heavy. His face, too, had undergone a great
change. As the roundness had left it, the eyes and the forehead had both
become more prominent features, and both were good. The square, firm jaw
still remained, but the heaviness of the cheek and nose had melted into
lines which gave only strength and character, and destroyed the dulness
which people used to comment upon. The face would never be called
handsome, in the sense that regular features are supposed to give
beauty, but it was strong and speaking, with lines of thought and
feeling.

"You know," laughed Mrs. D'Alloi, "you have actually become
good-looking, and I never dreamed that was possible!"

"How long have you been here?"

"A month. We are staying with papa, till the house in Fifty-seventh
Street can be put in order. It has been closed since Mrs. D'Alloi's
death. But don't let's talk houses. Tell me about yourself."

"There is little to tell. I have worked at my profession, with success."

"But I see your name in politics. And I've met many people in Europe who
have said you were getting very famous."

"I spend a good deal of time in politics. I cannot say whether I have
made myself famous, or infamous. It seems to depend on which paper I
read."

"Yes, I saw a paper on the steamer, that--" Mrs. D'Alloi hesitated,
remembering that it had charged Peter with about every known sin of
which man is capable. Then she continued, "But I knew it was wrong." Yet
there was quite as much of question as of assertion in her remark. In
truth, Mrs. D'Alloi was by no means sure that Peter was all that was