woman, who welcomed him most
graciously to Fairfax House.

"My daughter Claire will join us in a very few minutes. Ah, she is here
now," she announced, as a swift step was heard in the corridor outside;
a moment later the portieres parted, and the young girl whose portrait
he had been critically analyzing entered the room.

"I shall know at once by the first words he utters whether I shall like
him or not," thought the girl, looking straight into his face with her
fearless, keen, gray eyes. "He is handsome, and that generally goes with
great conceit, Faynie always said."

"I hope we shall be friends, Miss Fairfax," he said, extending his hand
and bowing low over the little brown one that lay for an instant in his
palm.

"There is a great mistake evident at the outset," said the girl, looking
up into his face. "Mamma said just now: 'This is my daughter Claire.' I
think mamma intended to add, 'Miss Claire Stanhope.' Mr. Fairfax was my
steppapa."

Kendale smiled amusedly, both at the mother's momentary discomfiture
and the young girl's brusque straightforwardness.

"I like her better than any one I have ever met. I shall marry her," he
promised himself.

CHAPTER XXII.

CLAIRE'S LOVER.

During the dinner that followed Kendale longed to introduce the subject
of "Faynie," but found no opening. His eagerness to know what they
thought and what they had to say concerning her disappearance was
intense, but he had to bide his time to find out.

Meanwhile he paid the most flattering attention to Claire.

He had noticed with a keen sense of regret that the girl limped most
painfully in her walk, but, despite this defect, for the first time in
his reckless life, he was thoroughly fascinated with her.

He took his leave early, promising them that he would certainly avail
himself of their gracious permission to call again, very, very soon.

Long after his departure the mother and daughter still sat in the
drawing-room discussing him eagerly.

"It is a good thing for you that Faynie declines to come down to the
drawing-room to see visitors and insists upon having her meals in her
own room. If she had seen this handsome Mr. Armstrong, you would have
stood little chance of winning him, my dear," declared Mrs. Fairfax.

Claire rose slowly to her feet, turned and faced her mother.

"You and I do not agree on that point, mamma," she said, quickly, "I
have what you call a Quixotic notion, perhaps, and that is that