ciously,
her utter content with the present. She turned hot at the thought of it
all.

"But one thing I won't stand." She jumped up and made for the house. "He
shan't have my photograph on his dressing-table."

She had seen it there one day on passing his open door, and had
wondered, wide-eyed, how he came by it--it was one she had had taken in
the East--and had felt unaccountably shy at the thought of asking him
about it.

She tore into the house, to get it, to destroy it, to tear it into tiny
bits, and trample upon it--at once, without a moment to lose--when,
rushing up the porch steps, she collided with the one person of all
others she least expected to see.

V

Late afternoon. The house was very still. Outside, the rain was falling,
falling, and the shrubs bent under their burden of shining drops.
Inside, the fire crackled and whispered and the girl lay in the big
armchair and looked around the room.

The fireplace; the big, rich rugs; the dark paneling; the fine,
unemotional pictures--no wonder the whole place had reminded her of
Arthur Hammond. She ought to have known. She ought to have known.

She heard his step in the hall. His door banged, once; twice; again.
Then, his voice, asking Eliza some question, and the murmur of the
housekeeper's reply.

Then he came in.

She did not speak or move, and his, "Good-evening" was presently
followed by the easy question: "What's the matter?"

Then she turned on him.

"Is it true that this house belongs to you?"

A pause. Then he answered slowly,

"Yes."

"And the grounds?"

"Yes."

"And the automobile--is yours?"

"Yes."

He stood quietly watching her. She knew it, though she did not look at
him. She took a deep breath.

"Those insurance companies have not paid," she said in a stifled voice.
"You told me they had. You--you gave me--Where did all that money come
from I've been spending?"

"Well, I suppose originally it was mine."

"Then it's true you are a millionaire?"

"Ye-es. Just about, I guess."

"And my property--all those buildings that burnt up were mortgaged
and--and I couldn't have rebuilt--and everybody knew it--except me. The
money that's putting them up again----"

"I arranged about that. But what difference does it make?"

"What did you do it for?"

"I thought you'd feel better to have an income again--and on account of
other people, too. It made me hot to have you treated as though you
were--just anybody at all--simply