y expected me to express repentance for something or
other and make some sort of proposition. I was not repentant and I had
no proposition to make. But how was I to tell her that without bringing
on another storm? Oh, if I had had time to consider. If I had not come
alone. If Hephzy,--cool-headed, sensible Hephzy--were only with me.

"I--I--" I began. Then desperately: "I scarcely know what to say, Miss
Morley," I faltered. "I came here, as I told you, expecting to find
a--a--"

"What, pray?" with a haughty lift of the dark eyebrows. "What did you
expect to find, may I ask?"

"Nothing--that is, I--Well, never mind that. I came on the spur of the
moment, immediately after receiving your letter. I have had no time to
think, to consult my--your aunt--"

"What has my--AUNT" with withering emphasis, "to do with it? Why should
you consult her?"

"Well, she is your mother's nearest relative, I suppose. She is Captain
Cahoon's daughter and at least as much interested as I. I must consult
her, of course. But, frankly, Miss Morley, I think I ought to tell you
that you are under a misapprehension. There are matters which you don't
understand."

"I understand everything. I understand only too well. What do you mean
by a misapprehension? Do you mean--do you dare to insinuate that my
father did not tell me the truth?"

"Oh, no, no," I interrupted. That was exactly what I did mean, but I was
not going to let the shade of the departed Strickland appear again until
I was out of that room and house. "I am not insinuating anything."

"I am very glad to hear it. I wish you to know that I perfectly
understand EVERYTHING."

That seemed to settle it; at any rate it settled me for the time. I took
up my hat.

"Miss Morley," I said, "I can't discuss this matter further just now. I
must consult my cousin first. She and I will call upon you to-morrow at
any hour you may name."

She was disappointed; that was plain. I thought for the moment that
she was going to break down again. But she did not; she controlled her
feelings and faced me firmly and pluckily.

"At nine--no, at ten to-morrow, then," she said. "I shall expect your
final answer then."

"Very well."

"You will come? Of course; I am forgetting. You said you would."

"We will be here at ten. Here is my address."

I gave her my card, scribbling the street and number of Bancroft's in
pencil in the corner. She took the card.

"Thank you. Good afternoon," she said.

I