of a good deal of interest. She told herself that she could not
help thinking of him. He came very often, on pretext of bringing or of
fetching Julian--especially on the days when Julian stayed until four
o'clock, for then he would stray in and sit down to chat with Janetta
and her mother until it was sheer incivility not to offer him a cup of
tea. Softened by the pleasures of hospitality, Mrs. Colwyn would be
quite gracious to him at these times. But now and then she left him to
be entertained by Janetta, saying rather sharply that she did not care
to meet the man who chose to behave "so brutally to her darling Nora."

So that Janetta got into the way of sitting with him, talking with him
on all subjects, of giving him her sage advice when he asked for it, and
listening with interest to the stories that he told her of his past
life. It was natural that she should think about him a good deal, and
about his efforts to straighten the tangled coil of his life, and to
make himself a worthier father for his little son than his own father
had been to him. There was nothing in the world more likely than this
sort of intercourse to bring these two kinsfolk upon terms of closest
friendship. And as Janetta indignantly told herself--there was
nothing--nothing more.

She always remembered that his wife was living; she never forgot it for
a moment. He was, of course, not a man whom she ever thought of
loving--she was angry with herself for the very suggestion--but he was
certainly a man who interested her more than any one whom she had ever
met. And he was interested in her too. He liked to talk to her, to ask
her advice and listen to her pet theories. She was friend, comrade,
sister, all in one. Nothing more. But the position was, whether they
knew it or not, a rather dangerous one, and an innocent friendship might
have glided into something closer and more harmful had not an unexpected
turn been given to the events of both their lives.

For some time Janetta had seen little of the Adairs. They were very much
occupied--visiting and receiving visits--and Margaret's lessons were not
persevered in. But one afternoon, shortly after Easter, she called at
Mrs. Colwyn's house between three and four, and asked when she might
begin again. Before the day was settled, however, they drifted into talk
about other things, and Margaret was soon deeply engaged in an account
of her presentation at Court.

"I thought you were going to stay in to