d appear.
Bella would not fail to know him.

CHAPTER IV

He took his gloves and his hat and started out. He drove to the address
which Bella had given him, where her letters were to be sent. It was a
studio building, and the woman stenographer at the general desk knew
that Miss Carew was absent in Europe and had not returned.

This was a blow; the woman saw the disappointment on his face.

"Miss Carew's letters?" he asked.

She pointed to the empty box. They were all sent to her to Europe.

He wandered in the little office whilst the woman did her work. He
glanced around him. On the walls there were framed sketches; there were
busts in plaster on pedestals.

It struck him as strange that Bella should have her letters sent to her
to a studio. He wanted to question the secretary, hesitated, then
asked--

"You know Miss Carew?"

"Very well."

"I reckon she patronizes this academy."

It would not have been surprising if she had given it some large
donation.

The stenographer repeated the word, "Patronizes? Miss Carew works here
when she is in America; she has a small studio here."

"Works here? Do you mean she paints?"

The woman smiled. "Yes; she has been studying in Florence. I expect her
home every day."

Fairfax still lingered, drawing his soft gloves through his hands.

"There's nothing to do, then, but to wait,"--he smiled on her his light
smile. He turned to go, hesitated. The temptation was too strong.

"Miss Carew paints portraits?"

"Yes," said the stenographer, "beautiful portraits."

He smiled, biting his lips. He remembered the parallel lines, the
reluctant little hand drawing them across the board.

"No more parallel lines, Cousin Antony."

He did not believe that she painted beautiful portraits. He would have
loved to see her work, oh, how much! There must be some of it here.

"There is nothing of hers here, I suppose?"

He went across the little room to the door. He could hardly bear to go
from here, from the only place that had any knowledge of Bella as far as
he knew.

He took out his card, scribbled his address upon it, handed it to the
stenographer, without asking anything of her but to let him know when
she would come back.

The woman nodded sympathetically.

"It is unusual for a great heiress, like Miss Carew, to paint
portraits."

"She is not a great heiress; Mr. Carew lost all his money two years ago.
I think Miss Carew is almost quite poor."

A radiant