She was attired in a simple evening gown,—an old one, she hastily would have informed a woman visitor,—and it was hard for him to believe that this was not the lovely, riant Anne Tresslyn of a year ago instead of the hardened mistress of Templeton Thorpe's home. There was no sign of confusion or uncertainty in her manner, and not the remotest indication that her heart still owned love for him. If she retained a spark of the old flame in that beautiful body of hers, it was very carefully secreted behind a mask of indifference. She met his gaze frankly, unswervingly. Her poise was perfect,—marvellously so in the face of his ill-concealed antipathy. "I suppose you know that I have been left in sole charge of the case," he said, without preface. "Oh, yes," she replied calmly. "It was Mr. Thorpe's desire." "And yours?" "Certainly. Were you hoping that I would interpose an objection?" "Yes. I am not qualified to take charge of—" "Pardon me, Braden, if I remind you, that so far as Mr. Thorpe's chances for recovery are concerned, he might safely be attended by the simplest novice. The result would be the same." She spoke without a trace of irony. "Dr. Bates and the others were willing to continue, but what was the use? They do not leave you a thing to stand on, Braden. There is nothing that you can do. I am sorry. It seems a pity for you to have come home to this." He smiled faintly, whether at her use of the word "home" or the prospect she laid down for him it would be difficult to say. "Shall we sit down, Anne, and discuss the situation?" he said. "It is one of my grandfather's orders, so I suppose we shall have to obey." She sank gracefully into a deep chair at the foot of the library table, and motioned for him to take one near-by. The light from the chandelier fell upon her brown hair, and glinted. "It is very strange, Braden, that we should come into each other's lives again, and in this manner. It seems so long ago—" "Is it necessary to discuss ourselves, Anne?" She regarded him steadily. "Yes, I think so," she said. "We must at least convince ourselves that the past has no right to interfere with or overshadow what we may choose to call the present,—or the future, for that matter, if I may look a little farther ahead. The fact remains that we are here together, Braden, in spite of all that has happened, and we must make the best of it. The world,—our own little world, I mean,—will be watching us. We must watch ourselves. Oh, don't misconstrue that remark, please. We must see to it that the world does not judge us entirely by our past." She was very cool about it, he thought,—and confident. "As I said before, Anne, I see no occasion to—" "Very well," she interrupted. "I beg your pardon. You asked me to see you to-night. What is it that you wish to say to me?"