n safeguarded world. He had seen a resemblance now
and then that turned him cold, but when all was said and done there was
no reason, no unforgivable reason, for him to exile himself from life.

And when he was in this state of mind, Cameron was like vinegar on a raw
wound to him. Cameron's joyousness, born of indifference, passed for
assurance based, as Raymond believed, on his asinine conceit.

"He takes Nancy for granted," Raymond grumbled, "and he need not be too
sure--why, only last night----"

Then Raymond recalled the look in Nancy's eyes.

As a matter of fact, while Raymond was no better nor worse than the
average young man visiting the marriage market, Nancy had selected him
for worship and glorification. He loomed high and then, suddenly, he
loomed alone!

There is that in woman which selects for its own. It is not merely the
instinct of mating, it is choice, in the main, and makes either for
success or failure--but it always has its compensations in that vague,
groping sense that calls for its own. The world may look on wondering or
dismayed, but the woman, under the crude exterior, clings to the ideal
she sought.

With Nancy and Raymond conditions favoured the moment. Nancy had a wide
choice and she was radiantly happy. Doris saw to it that the girl should
see and hear the best of everything and be free to live her days
unfettered.

Raymond had inherited the purest desires for family and home--he had
never seen them gratified in his parents' life, so they still lay
dormant in his heart. Nancy presently awakened them and Cameron's
mistaken attitude drove them into action.

Raymond counted Nancy's charms. Her devotion to her aunt, her unselfish
service while her twin sister followed her own devices, Doctor Martin's
very pronounced admiration, and Mrs. Tweksbury's ardent affection all
carried him along like favouring winds. And presently the constant
appearance of Cameron with Nancy lashed Raymond to the amazing
conviction that he was in love!

He grew pale and abstracted; the revealment was pouring like light and
sun into the depths of his nature. He wished that he was a better man;
he thanked whatever god he reverenced that he was not a worse one. He
recalled the one foolish episode of his youth with contempt for his
weakness and gratitude for the escape--not only for himself but for the
unknown girl.

As a proof of the sincerity of his present change of heart he wished
above everything that he m