Instantly with that word, her thoughts flew again to "Daisy," the acquaintance of a day, who had been so close to wreckage and who had made a permanent place for herself in this mother-heart. That awful man! Would she ever meet him again? If so, what would happen! What if she should meet him under circumstances that would compel her acknowledgement of him as an acquaintance? For instance, what if he should, after all, become Daisy's husband! She recoiled from the thought as she might have done from a blow; yet one could not be sure; the child had given herself unreservedly to him, unworthy of her as he seemed. Perhaps her love would redeem his life! Ought she not to hope so? Yet her very soul revolted from it! Next, she was in the lower hall looking over the morning mail, gathering from it letters and telegrams for herself; and her hostess was coming forward to meet her, in the most charming of house gowns, with a face as bright as the morning. She was voluble in her hope that the night had been restful, and that her guest could give them the entire day. "It is so delightful that Mr. Oliver is at home to enjoy you; I had no hope of such a thing. He came home unexpectedly on a later train than yours. He had started on a very long business trip, expecting to be gone for several months. Then, one of those unaccountable business changes came up—I never pretend to understand business—and he came back. The children and I held a jubilee over his arrival. You can't think what a trial it is to have him away so much! Fully half his time is spent in the West, or the South, or somewhere!" At that moment the dining-room door opened, and the voluble voice flowed on. "Oh, Ralph, are you down already? Mrs. Dunlap, let me present my husband, Mr. Oliver." And Mary Dunlap was face to face with the man she knew as "R. H. Keller"! How they got through with that awful breakfast hour Mrs. Dunlap was never afterwards quite certain. She knew she had a sudden frightened feeling that she must not wreck that poor woman's home not yet, at least. She must take time and think what to do. She must keep up some form of appearances; she must seem to receive the man as her host; she must not say anything about the Kennard House or the interrupted journey, or the disabled engine. What could she say? She knew that she did not address him, directly, and that his wife did more than her full share of the talking, for which she mentally blessed her. Once the wife said: "Why, Ralph, what on earth is the matter? You are as white as a ghost! Don't you feel well? I don't think you ought to start again to-night; I don't really." He put her off with a pleasantry of some sort; asked if the girls had gone to school already, and gave careful attention to serving the guest. Somehow the ordeal was lived through. As they arose from the table Mrs. Oliver issued her directions.