perform, and bless in our secret souls. She had often wondered where
they would next meet, and how she should comport herself at such a
trying time. She had never imagined that he would come in this way, or
that a hearth-brush would save her from the betrayal of emotion. So it
was, however, and an involuntary smile passed over her face as she
managed to say quite naturally, while brushing the nutshells tidily out
of sight--

"You know you are always welcome, Mr. Warwick. 'Adam's Room,' as we call
it, is always ready, and Geoffrey was wishing for you only yesterday."

"I am sure of his satisfaction at my coming, can I be equally sure of
yours. May I, ought I to stay?"

He leaned forward as he spoke, with an eager yet submissive look, that
Sylvia dared not meet, and in her anxiety to preserve her
self-possession, she forgot that to this listener every uttered word
became a truth, because his own were always so.

"Why not, if you can bear our quiet life, for we are a Darby and Joan
already, though we do not look so to-night, I acknowledge."

Men seldom understand the subterfuges women instinctively use to conceal
many a natural emotion which they are not strong enough to control, not
brave enough to confess. To Warwick, Sylvia seemed almost careless, her
words a frivolous answer to the real meaning of his question, her smile
one of tranquil welcome. Her manner wrought an instant change in him,
and when he spoke again he was the Warwick of a year ago.

"I hesitated, Mrs. Moor, because I have sometimes heard young wives
complain that their husbands' friends were marplots, and I have no
desire to be one."

This speech, delivered with frosty gravity, made Sylvia as cool and
quiet as itself. She put her ally down, looked full at Warwick, and said
with a blending of dignity and cordiality which even the pinafore could
not destroy--

"Please to consider yourself a specially invited guest, now and always.
Never hesitate, but come and go as freely as you used to do, for nothing
need be changed between us three because two of us have one home to
offer you."

"Thanks; and now that the hearth is scrupulously clean may I offer you a
chair?"

The old keenness was in his eye, the old firmness about the mouth, the
old satirical smile on his lips as Warwick presented the seat, with an
inclination that to her seemed ironical. She sat down, but when she cast
about her mind for some safe and easy topic to introduce, every idea h