ome in."

She turned and led the way down the wide, deep hall and into the
living-room, a chamber which boldly defied one to remember that he was
still upon the rim of the desert. In one swift glance the newcomer to
San Juan was offered a picture in which the tall, carelessly clad form
of the sheriff became incongruous; she wondered that he remained at his
ease as he so obviously did. Yonder was a grand piano, a silver chased
vase upon a wall bracket over it holding three long-stemmed, red roses;
a heavy, massive-topped table strewn comfortably and invitingly with
books and magazines; an exquisite rug and one painting upon the far
wall, an original seascape suggestive of Waugh at his best; excellent
leather-upholstered chairs luxuriously inviting, and at once homelike
and rich. Just rising from one of these chairs drawn up to the table
reading-lamp, a book still in his hand, was Mr. Engle, while Mrs.
Engle, as fair as her daughter, just beginning to grow stout in
lavendar, came forward smilingly.

"Back again, Roddy?" She gave him a plump hand, patted his lean brown
fingers after her motherly fashion, and came to where the girl had
stopped just within the door.

"Virginia Page, aren't you? As if any one in the world would have to
tell me who _you_ were! You are your mother all over, child; did you
know it? Oh, kiss me, kiss me, my dear, for your mother's sake, and
save your hand-shakes for strangers."

Virginia, taken utterly by surprise as Mrs. Engle's arms closed warmly
about her, grew rosy with pleasure; the dreary loneliness of a long day
was gone with a kiss and a hug.

"I didn't know . . . ." she began haltingly, only to be cut short by
Mrs. Engle crying to her husband:

"It's Virginia Page, John. Wouldn't you have known her anywhere?"

John Engle, courteous, urbane, a pleasant-featured man with grave,
kindly eyes and a rather large, firm-lipped mouth nodded to Norton and
gave Virginia his hand cordially.

"I must be satisfied with a hand-shake, Miss Page," he said in a deep,
pleasant voice, "but I refuse to be a mere stranger. We are immensely
glad to have you with us. . . . Mother, can't you see we have most
thoroughly mystified her; swooping down on her like this without giving
her an inkling of how and why we expected her?"

Roderick Norton and Florrie Engle had drawn a little apart; Virginia,
with her back to them during the greeting of Mrs. and Mr. Engle, had no
way of knowing whether th