her movements were quiet, for
she had never been the noisy sort of woman. There was something
soothing in the veiled presence.

"I hope I'm not intruding," ventured Ralph, at length. "I'll go,
presently. I've just had a--well, a blow. That little saint upstairs
has been taught that marriage is wicked."

"I know," returned Miss Evelina, instantly comprehending. "Mehitable
has very strange ideas. I'm sorry," she added, in a tone she might
have used in speaking to Anthony Dexter, years before.

Her sympathy touched the right chord. It was not obtrusive, it had no
hint of pity; it was simply that one who had been hurt fully understood
the hurt of another. Ralph felt a mysterious kinship.

"I've wanted for some time to ask you," he began awkwardly, "if there
was not something I could do for you. The--the veil, you know--" He
stopped, at a loss for further words.

"Yes?" Miss Evelina's voice was politely inquiring. She thought it odd
for Anthony Dexter's son to be concerned about her veil. She wondered
whether he meditated giving her a box of chiffon, as Piper Tom had done.

"Believe me," he said, impetuously, "I only want to help. I want to
make it possible for you to take that--to take that thing off."

"It is not possible," returned Miss Evelina, after a painful interval.
"I shall always wear my veil."

"You don't understand," explained Ralph. It seemed to him that he had
spent the day telling women they did not understand. "I know, of
course, that there was some dreadful accident, and that it happened a
long time ago. Since then, wonderful advances have been made in
surgery--there is a great deal possible now that was not dreamed of
then. Of course I should not think of attempting it myself, but I
would find the man who could do it, take you to him, and stand by you
until it was over."

The clock ticked loudly and a little bird sang outside, but there was
no other sound.

"I want to help you," said Ralph, humbly, as he rose to his feet;
"believe me, I want to help you."

Miss Evelina said nothing, but she followed him to the door. At the
threshold, Ralph turned back. "Won't you let me help you?" he asked.
"Won't you even let me try?"

"I thank you," said Miss Evelina, coldly, "but nothing can be done."

The door closed behind him with a portentous suggestion of finality.
As he went down the path, Ralph felt himself shut out from love and
from all human service. He did not look back to