Keith and the hostess returned to the drawing-room before Norman, and she was no longer the professional beauty, the cold woman of the world, the mere fashionable hostess. The doors were flung open more than once as Keith talked warmly of the boy, and within Keith got glimpses of what was hidden there, which made him rejoice again that his friend had such a treasure. These glimpses of unexpected softness drew him nearer to her than he had ever expected to be, and on his part he talked to her with a frankness and earnestness which sank deep into her mind, and opened the way to a warmer friendship than she usually gave. "Norman is right," she said to herself. "This is a man." At the thought a light flashed upon her. It suddenly came to her. This is "the ghost"! Yet could it be possible? She solved the question quickly. "Mr. Keith, did you ever know Alice Lancaster?" "Alice Lancaster--?" For a bare second he looked puzzled. "Oh, Miss Alice Yorke? Yes, a long time ago." He was conscious that his expression had changed. So he added: "I used to know her very well." "Decidedly, this is the ghost," reflected Mrs. Wentworth to herself, as she scanned anew Keith's strong features and sinewy frame. "Alice said if a woman had ever seen him, she would not be likely to forget him, and I think she was right." "Why do you ask me?" inquired Keith, who had now quite recovered from his little confusion. "Of course, you know her?" "Yes, very well. We were at school together. She is my best friend, almost." She shut her mouth as firmly as though this were the last sentence she ever proposed to utter; but her eyes, as they rested on Keith's face, had the least twinkle in them. Keith did not know how much of their old affair had been told her, but she evidently knew something, and it was necessary to show her that he had recovered from it long ago and yet retained a friendly feeling for Mrs. Lancaster. "She was an old sweetheart of mine long ago; that is, I used to think myself desperately in love with her a hundred years ago or so, before she was married--and I was, too," he added. He gained not the least idea of the impression this made on Mrs. Wentworth. "She was talking to me about you only the other day," she said casually. Keith again made a feint to open her defence. "I hope she said kind things about me? I deserve some kindness at her hands, for I have only pleasant memories of her." "I wonder what he means by that?" questioned Mrs. Wentworth to herself, and then added: "Oh, yes; she did. Indeed, she was almost enthusiastic about your--friendship." Her eyes scanned his face lightly. "Has she fulfilled the promise of beauty that she gave as a school-girl? I used to think her one of the most beautiful creatures in the world; but I don't know that I was capable of judging at that time," he added, with a smile, "for I remember I was quite desperate about her for a little while." He tried to speak naturally.