In the morning Justin discovered that Davison was temporarily absent, possibly out of town, but was expected at any moment. Fogg told him this, and observed that Justin showed a flushed, anxious face and had passed a sleepless night. Thereupon, remembering the promise of Sibyl Dudley, Fogg’s courage rose. He dared not question Justin, and Justin was non-committal. This new knowledge Justin wished to share first of all with his father. In his room a brief note was brought to him. Lucy Davison was in the ladies’ parlor, and he went down to see her. She was seated by one of the windows that overlooked the noisy street. When she arose to meet him he saw that Sibyl had told her everything. There was sympathy and glad happiness, mingled with anxiety, in her manner. Her emotions tinted her cheeks and shadowed her brown eyes. Being a man, Justin did not note how she was dressed, except that it was very becomingly. Being a woman, she not only knew that she was entirely presentable herself, but saw every detail of his garb, from his well-polished shoes to the set of his collar. And she knew that he was clean and handsome. He had never questioned that she was the most beautiful woman, as to him she had been the most beautiful girl, in the world. Mary Jasper’s rose-leaf complexion and midnight hair were juvenile and inane beside the glory of Lucy Davison’s maturing womanhood. “I am so glad, Justin, for you!” she said, and gave him her hands without reserve. “And I am glad!” His voice choked, as he led her back to the window, where the rumble of the street noises stilled other sounds. “I am glad; though at first I couldn’t believe it, for it seemed so improbable. But I’m sure now it is true.” She looked at him with fond admiration; at the straight firm features, at the handsome head with its crown of dark hair, at the tall muscular form, and into the clear blue eyes. And the blue eyes looked into the brown with love in their glance. “And you’re almost related to me,” she said, sympathetically, “for you’re Ben’s half-brother!” He smiled at her, and tried to assume a cheerful, even a jovial tone. “I had thought of that, and of what a good thing it is that we’re not wholly related!” “Let me see! What is our relationship now?” “You are my sweetheart now, and will be my wife some day!” She flushed attractively. “I didn’t mean that. Let me see—Ben’s mother and my mother were sisters. So Ben and I are cousins.” “And I am Ben’s half-brother, so you and I are half-cousins.” He tried to speak in playful jest. “No, we’re not related at all!” “Then we shall have to become related, at an early day.” “Uncle Philip is my uncle by marriage, but not my blood uncle. I am a cousin to Ben through my mother and his mother, who were sisters. So if I have no blood relationship with Uncle Philip, your father, I have none with you, for your mother was not related to me in any way.”