against the grain somehow, every line of the way. It seemed
strange.... And now I see that I must have felt--known--all along....
But," said the strange young man, setting down the vase and hurriedly
running his fingers through his hair, "I--I realize that this must sound
most unconvincing to you. Probably foolish. No matter...."

But Cally felt by now that she understood him better than he understood
himself.

"No, I think I understand," said she. "And if you hadn't felt that
way--don't you see?--it never would have happened."

He turned on her another strange look, at once intensely interested and
intensely bewildered. But she glanced away from it at once, and would
give him no chance to ask her what that might mean.

"I've got so much I want to tell you, so much I want to ask your advice
and help about," said she, rising, with a change to what she regarded as
an excellent business voice and manner. "Perhaps we ought to go into
executive session at once--and let's go into the library, too! I know
you're awfully busy, but I do hope you've come prepared to make a good
long visit."

The article-writer neglected to reply at all, moving after her with his
queer, startled look....

So these two passed from the Heth drawing-room to the Heth library, to
talk about business: the new Heth Works, in fine. They came into a room
which was intimately and poignantly associated with Hugo Canning.
Memories of the departed greeted Cally upon the threshold, and
thereafter; only they were not poignant now. Hugo's face kept rising
mistily beside the so different visage of the man he had instinctively
disliked, his ancient hoodoo....

This was to be a meeting like none other Cally had ever had with the
stranger in her house, a _happy_ meeting, troubled by no shadow. They
sat down across the great table from each other, in good business style,
as she considered; and then she began to talk eagerly, recounting to him
without any embarrassment, though of course with some judicious
expurgation, what had been going on in her mind, and out of it, during
the last five days; beginning with the afternoon she had seen him at the
Cooneys', and culminating with the long talk she had had with her father
at, and after, luncheon to-day.

And he, the only confidant she had ever had, sitting with his patched
elbow on her father's table, and his chin in his cupped hand, attended
every word with his singular quality of interest. He was unique among