mother; Mrs. Sherrill,
after informing Alan that Mr. Sherrill might not return until some time
later, went up-stairs and did not appear again. Constance followed her
mother but, ten minutes later came downstairs.

"You're not staying here to-night?" she said.

"I wanted to say to your father," Alan explained, "that I believe I had
better go over to the other house."

She came a little closer to him in her concern. "Nothing has happened
here?"

"Here? You mean in this house?" Alan smiled. "No; nothing."

She seemed relieved. Alan, remembering her mother's manner, thought he
understood; she knew that remarks had been made, possibly, which
repeated by a servant might have offended him.

"I'm afraid it's been a hard day for you," she said.

"It's certainly been unusual," Alan admitted.

It had been a hard day for her, too, he observed; or probably the
recent days, since her father's and her own good friend had gone, had
been trying. She was tired now and nervously excited; but she was so
young that the little signs of strain and worry, instead of making her
seem older, only made her youth more apparent. The curves of her neck
and her pretty, rounded shoulders were as soft as before; her lustrous,
brown hair was more beautiful, and a slight flush colored her clear
skin.

It had seemed to Alan, when Mrs. Sherrill had spoken to him a few
minutes before, that her manner toward him had been more reserved and
constrained than earlier in the evening; and he had put that down to
the lateness of the hour; but now he realized that she probably had
been discussing him with Constance, and that it was somewhat in
defiance of her mother that Constance had come down to speak with him
again.

"Are you taking any one over to the other house with you?" she inquired.

"Any one?"

"A servant, I mean."

"No."

"Then you'll let us lend you a man from here."

"You're awfully good; but I don't think I'll need any one to-night.
Mr. Corvet's--my father's man--is coming back to-morrow, I understand.
I'll get along very well until then."

She was silent a moment as she looked away. Her shoulders suddenly
jerked a little. "I wish you'd take some one with you," she persisted.
"I don't like to think of you alone over there."

"My father must have been often alone there."

"Yes," she said. "Yes." She looked at him quickly, then away,
checking a question. She wanted to ask, he knew, what he had
discovered in that lone