surprised
if you could do it," he slowly replied.

For he had heard her play. She and Seaton had been caught near his home
by a sudden shower while on horseback, and had dashed in for shelter.
While the rain beat outside and while Shiro was preparing one of his
famous suppers, Crane had suggested that she pass the time by playing
his "fiddle." Dorothy realized, with the first sweep of the bow, that
she was playing a Stradivarius, the like of which she had played before
only in her dreams. She forgot her listeners, forgot the time and the
place, and poured out in her music all the beauty and tenderness of her
nature. Soft and full the tones filled the room, and in Crane's vision
there rose a home filled with happy work, with laughter and
companionship, with playing children who turned their faces to their
mother as do flowers to the light. Sensing the girl's dreams as the
music filled his ears, he realized as never before in his busy,
purposeful life how beautiful a home with the right woman could be. No
thought of love for Dorothy entered his mind, for he knew that the love
existing between her and his friend was of the kind that nothing could
alter, but he felt that she had unwittingly given him a great gift.
Often thereafter in his lonely hours he had imagined that dream-home,
and nothing less than its perfection would ever satisfy him.

For a time they walked on in silence. On Dorothy's face was a tender
look, the reflection of her happy thoughts, and in Crane's mind floated
again the vision of his ideal home, the home whose central figure he was
unable to visualize. At last she turned and placed her hand on his arm.

"You have done a great deal for me--for us," she said simply. "I wish
there were something I could do for you in return."

"You have already done much more than that for me, Dorothy," he
answered, more slowly even than usual. "It is hard for me to express
just what it is, but I want you to know that you and Dick mean much to
me.... You are the first real woman I have ever known, and some day, if
life is good to me, I hope to have some girl as lovely care for me."

Dorothy's sensitive face flushed warmly. So unexpected and sincere was
his praise that it made her feel both proud and humble. She had never
realized that this quiet, apparently unimaginative man had seen all the
ideals she expressed in her music. A woman expects to appear lovely to
her lover, and to the men who would be her lovers if they