ee a sneer on his curving lips that was
more biting and bitter than any words, and made them look evil. He was
not dictatorial all round to everybody as he used to be, but I thought
him harsh in particular instances. His smiles to myself were more rare;
his eyes colder: he seemed to me cynical of all on earth; I feared, too,
with keen sorrow, of all in Heaven.

Others spoke of the changes the wear and tear of life abroad had made on
Paul, but I had seen his face as it looked--for the last time on
earth--upon Janet that day, and had my own sad thoughts.

But although I speak of these changes, I do not mean to say that Paul
was not as gentle and loving to me as he had ever been, and that I was
not exquisitely happy to be with him again. Many a pleasant walk had we
about Duncan's garden, I leaning on Paul's strong arm, a support which I
felt the need of now. Twenty years had not come and gone without leaving
plenty of traces on me. We neither of us ever mentioned Janet, _my_
Janet, that is to say. Janet's daughter (Janet II., as I used to
mentally designate her for convenience' sake) was here as I expected,
and for a while, just as before, I did not take to her. I left her alone
and she left me alone; that was her way.

She was lovely, certainly; ethereally lovely; almost too lovely for
one's senses to grasp the fact that she was but common flesh and blood
like all the rest of the world: a poem in human form if there ever was
one. Gossip had spoken truly for once; there were the three
distinguished lovers, and goodness knows how many more besides.

Paul and I never spoke of this girl, any more than we did of my Janet;
but, at first, I often fancied I saw his gaze fastened on her; the same
unpleasant sneer on his lips which disfigured them when he looked at
Duncan. By and by I grew rather to like her. I believe I, at heart,
resented Paul looking like that at my Janet's bairn. I began to fancy
that, for all her apparent calmness, she was shy. If we met in the
garden she would give me a swift glance to see if I were going to stop
and speak to her, and, I thought, seemed pleased when I did. At last
there came an odd little episode.

Paul was very fond of animals--that was always one of his good
traits--and he one day found a little stray white kitten somewhere about
the place, and brought it into the room where I sat alone at work. He
began grimly to play with it. Just then Janet opened the door. She gave
a delighted excl