for all the hard, cruel, lonely years."

Kate smiled knowingly; not that she actually knew much to be
knowing about.

She wondered why she did not disapprove of Major Darrett. Certain she was
that some of the things which had kept his years from being hard, cruel,
and lonely were in the category for disapproval. But he managed them so
well; one could not but admire his deftness, and admiration was weakening
to disapproval. One disapproved of things which offended one, and in this
instance the results of the things one knew one should disapprove were so
far from offensive that one let it go at smiling knowingly, mildly
disapproving of one's self for not disapproving.

Ann had not responded enthusiastically to Katie's drawing of Major
Darrett. She had not seemed to grasp the idea that much was forgiven the
very charming; that ordinary standards were not rigidly applied to the
extraordinarily fascinating. When Katie was laughingly telling of one of
the Major's most interesting flirtations Ann's eyes had seemed to crouch
back in that queer way they had. Katie had had an odd sense of Ann's
disapproving of her--disapproving of her for her not disapproving of him.
More than once Ann had given her that sense of being disapproved of.

As with all things in the universe just then, he was a new angle back to
Ann. If he were to come there--? For Major Darrett would not at all
disapprove of those eyes of Ann's. And yet his own eyes would see more
than Wayne and Harry Prescott had seen. Major Darrett had been little on
the frontier, but much in the drawing-room; he had never led up San Juan
hill, but he had led many a cotillion. He had had that form of military
training which makes society favorites. As to Ann, he would have the
feminine "specs" and the masculine delight at one and the same time. What
of that union?

Katie's eyes began to dance. She hoped he would come. He would be a foe
worthy her steel. She would have to fix up all her fortifications--look
well to her ammunition. Whatever might be held against Major Darrett it
could not be said he was not worthy one's cleverest fabrications. But the
triumph of holding one's own with a veteran!

Then of a sudden she wondered what the man who mended the boats would
think of the Major.

CHAPTER XIII

Before she had finished her writing Wayne and Worth came up on the porch.
The little boy had been over at the shops with his father.

"Father," he was saying, imaginatio