There was something womanish in the knock, Marcia thought, as she hastened to answer it, and she wondered, hurriedly smoothing her shining hair, if it could be the aunts come to make their fortnightly-afternoon penance visit. She gave a hasty glance into the parlor hoping all was right, and was relieved to make sure she had closed the piano. The aunts would consider it a great breach of housewifely decorum to allow a moment’s dust to settle upon its sacred keys. But it was not the aunts who stood upon the stoop, smiling and bowing with a handsome assurance of his own welcome. It was Harry Temple. Marcia was not glad to see him. A sudden feeling of unreasoning alarm took possession of her. “You’re all alone this time, sweet lady, aren’t you?” he asked with easy nonchalance, as he lounged into the hall without waiting her bidding. “Sir!” said Marcia, half frightened, half wondering. But he smiled reassuringly down upon her and took the door knob in his own hands to close the door. “Your good man is out this time, isn’t he?” he smiled again most delightfully. His face was very handsome when he smiled. He knew this fact well. Marcia did not smile. Why did he speak as if he knew where David was, and seemed to be pleased that he was away? “My husband is not in at present,” she said guardedly, her innocent eyes searching his face, “did you wish to see him?” She was beautiful as she stood there in the wide hall, with only the light from the high transom over the door, shedding an afternoon glow through its pleated Swiss oval. She looked more sweet and little-girlish than ever, and he felt a strong desire to take her in his arms and tell her so, only he feared, from something he saw in those wide, sweet eyes, that she might take alarm and run away too soon, so he only smiled and said that his business with her husband could wait until another time, and meantime he had called to fulfil his promise to play for her. She took him into the darkened parlor, gave him the stiffest and stateliest hair-cloth chair; but he walked straight over to the instrument, and with not at all the reverence she liked to treat it, flung back the coverings, threw the lid open, and sat down.