As she went about the house, looking for Millie, her determination took on a hard and bitter aspect which was only softened when she caught the sound of Raymond Thomas's voice. He was speaking softly to Millie in the lobby. Mrs. Jones belonged to a generation not so long past when eavesdropping was not considered a wholly unworthy occupation if it tended to place the culprit in a position to know the inner secrets of those bound by the tie of relationship. For some time, so cleverly did he manage her, Mrs. Jones had felt a motherly tenderness for Thomas springing up within her, and she hoped and dreamed that her affection would have a chance to express itself. That Thomas was in love with Millie she had fully decided on. It was for this reason that the very sight of John Marvin, whom she knew to be a poor young man with no particular prospects, filled her with displeasure. Then, too, she did not approve of her husband's friendship with Marvin, having a strong suspicion that Marvin was influencing Bill against Thomas, and an intuition that Bill, in his unworldliness, would stand back of Marvin's love for Millie. And so it was that the sight of Millie smiling up at Thomas as he looked earnestly down into the girl's brown eyes set Mrs. Jones's heart beating hopefully--and sent her behind a curtain to listen to what was being said. Thomas had just come in from the veranda, where he had begged to be excused from accompanying two prospective widows on a walk to see the waterfall at the edge of the place. He was smiling with affected indifference when he met Mildred, who had just come down one of the stairways, of which there were two, one leading to the Nevada side of the house and the other to the California side. "It's a shame to miss a stroll with them!" belying his words with a sneering toss of the head and shrug of the shoulders. Millie's brow was drawn thoughtfully into wrinkles and there was a wistful pucker to her mouth. At once he was all attention. "What is the matter, Millie?" he asked, a note bordering on tenderness in his voice. "It's daddy again. He did not get back until midnight, and he was off again this morning before mother or I could prevent him. I just heard the boarders complaining about the mail service. It's all so hard on mother, and yet"--she hesitated, her mind reverting to her foster-father's kindness to her through all the years of her babyhood and girlhood--"and yet," she went on, "he's really so good and kind at heart, he really would feel dreadfully if he understood what he puts us through." She stood by the newel-post, her eyes pleading for advice. Thomas took her hand and looked at it thoughtfully. For a moment Millie let it lie in his; then her lids dropped and she blushed, withdrawing her hand and walking slowly toward one of the desks, of which there were also two, one on each side of the hall.