“Good-bye, Mr. Latham,” said Kit, grasping his host’s hand so tight that he winced. “I’m proud and grateful that you let me come here. Good-bye, Miss Dallas. Come, little Anne; you’re going to be taken home by me. Helen? Are you ready?” Helen made her adieux with her most charming grace, including Anne Dallas in her cordiality. She had allowed her temper to get away from her, but she had no mind to let it be the final impression which she left behind her. She was far too wise to stir men to championship of another girl, however her inferior in wit and beauty that girl might be. Anne Dallas, with heightened colour, responded quietly to Helen’s farewell. She did not betray the slightest annoyance. “She surpasses in breeding as she does in all other ways,” thought Richard, listening to Anne’s courteous replies, spoken in her soft alto voice. “Good-bye, you darlingest! You very sweetest and darlingest!” cried little Anne, hugging Anne Dallas, and voicing what they all felt, though the feeling puzzled the child. Kit left little Anne at her own door; she had walked in utter silence, holding his hand tight, while Helen chatted cheerfully, ignoring little Anne. “What a queer, thin, dark, clever little creature!” exclaimed Helen after they had bade the child good-night. “Even bright children bore me. I don’t care for crudity in any form. I daresay your least Anne will make a clever woman.” “Well, Nell, I can’t recall consulting you about little Anne,” said Kit, but so pleasantly that Helen could not resent it. “Not about either Anne do you mean?” laughed Helen. “That little secretary person is a nice girl. Not particularly interesting, not particularly pretty, but interesting and pretty enough. It’s a mutually lucky thing that she is working for Richard Latham. If he marries her it will be quite well--and of course he is going to marry her. He is blind, so more beautiful women won’t make him repent it, and his wife will not be criticized as his wife would be if he weren’t blind. She would be entirely dutiful, and of course marriage to him will give her a position that she could not otherwise hope to attain. She doesn’t strike one as having connections.” “Marry him! Anne Dallas!” cried Kit. Helen glanced at him. “Certainly. I should say that it was practically settled now,” she said. “Latham would be a step upward for most women, but no one would dream of opposing anything that he wanted. He really is pathetic, so gifted, so handsome, so polished--and so blind! I was not prepared to admire him as I do. It would be wicked to cross him in whatever he desired. I, for one, would not put a straw in the way of his marrying that mousey little secretary, even if I could, and though there are plenty of brilliant women who would gladly devote themselves to him.” Kit did not speak. He walked on whistling behind his closed teeth. Helen broke the silence: