ade everything right" for Clo at Moreton and
Payntor's. Indeed, Mrs. Roger Sands having taken her up, she had become
quite a classic figure of romance among her late enemies. When Beverley
told the girl that when she got well she wouldn't have to go, but could
stop and be "a sort of secretary," Clo Riley almost had a relapse from
the shock of joy.

By the end of May Clo's broken ribs had mended. The first day when she
was up and dressed, able to go downstairs, and out for a spin in the
renovated blue car, she was a very different looking girl from the
battered wisp of humanity whose blood had stained the "robin's-egg"
cloth and silk.

It was Sunday, and Clo was burning with excitement. She was to meet her
Angel's husband for the first time. She had pictured him a dragon. The
Angel loved him, but the Angel was such a saint, and would love any old
husband. Clo imagined that Beverley had been poor (she must have known
poverty to be so sympathetic!) and that she'd married an elderly man
because--well, not entirely because he was rich (that wouldn't be like
an Angel) but because she needed protection. Clo expected to see a
grumpy graybeard.

Roger expected to see a washed-out invalid of indefinite type, a young
woman of the shabbiest shop-girl order.

What Clodagh saw, when she followed Mrs. Sands into the study, was a
strong, dark man, not old at all, apparently, and almost interesting
enough in looks to be worthy of the Angel. Still, she was not sure she
was going to like him.

What Roger saw was a small, slender girl, too childish, too impish, to
think of as a "young woman." She had a little oval face with a pointed
chin. It was pale, but not washed-out, and her lips were red. An
obstinate, impudent mouth, Roger thought. As for her eyes--he had never
seen such great eyes in a human face. They were like holes in a blanket,
so big, so black, as they stared up at him. She had curly auburn hair,
that looked even redder than it was, in contrast with her eyes. But
though the face was impish, not pretty precisely, with its high cheek
bones and impertinent chin, he had to admit that it was noticeable, and,
in some odd way, attractive. The girl was charmingly dressed. He might
have known that Bev would see to that. Clo was a surprise to him, as he
was to her. Each saw that the other was a distinct and interesting
personality; and Roger realized that Beverley was right; the girl had
the air of being a lady. There was somethin