r more than any
woman he knew. It was always a pleasure to see her again; and, like Aunt
Grizel, he trusted and respected her deeply, though again, like Aunt
Grizel, he did not, perhaps, know her quite down to the ground. He
thought, however, that he did; he knew that Helen was as intimate with
nobody in the world as with him, not even with Aunt Grizel, and it was
one of his most delightful experiences to saunter through all the
chambers of Helen's mind, convinced that every door was open to him.

Gerald Digby was a tall and very slender man; he tilted forward when he
walked, and often carried his hands in his pockets. He had thick,
mouse-coloured hair, which in perplexed or meditative moments he often
ruffled by rubbing his hand through it, and even when thus disordered it
kept its air of fashionable grace. His large, long nose, his finely
curved lips and eyelids, had a delicately carved look, as though the
sculptor had taken great care over the details of his face. His brown
eyes had thick, upturned lashes, and were often in expression absent and
irresponsible, but when he looked at any one, intent and merry, like a
gay dog's eyes. And of the many charming things about Gerald Digby the
most charming was his smile, which was as infectious as a child's, and
exposed a joyous array of large white teeth.

He was smiling at his cousin now, for she was telling him, dryly, yet
with a mocking humour all her own, of her Paris fiasco that had delayed
her return to London by a fortnight, and, by the expense it had
entailed upon her, had deprived her of the new hat and dress that she
had hoped in Paris to secure. Talking of Paris led to the letter she had
sent him four or five days ago. 'About this rich American,' said Gerald;
'is she really going to take Merriston, do you think? It's awfully good
of you, Helen, to try and get a tenant for me.'

'I don't know that you'd call her rich--not as Americans go; but I
believe she will take Merriston. She wanted to take it at once, on
faith; but I insisted that she must see it first.'

'You must have cried up the dear old place for her to be so eager.'

'I think she is eager about pleasing me,' said Helen. 'I told her that I
loved the place and hadn't been there for years, and that moved her very
much. She has taken a great fancy to me.'

'Really,' said Gerald. 'Why?'

'I'm sure I don't know. She is a dear little person, but rather funny.'

'Of course, there is no reason why any o