Yet, in spite of this feeling of failure, West's reflections centred more upon the young woman than upon the particular problem which he had to solve. The ride back from the city had revealed a phase of her character he had never observed before--she had shown herself vivacious, light of speech, a bit slangy and audacious. He was not altogether sure that this new revealment quite pleased him, and yet it possessed a certain charm. He had before learned to think of her as rather quiet and reserved, and now must change his whole conception. It was difficult to adjust his mind at once to the different standard. He found himself wondering why she had afforded him glimpses of her nature so strangely unlike. What could have occurred within the cottage to thus make so suddenly manifest this new side to her character? The change in her only served to increase the mystery, and, he confessed, his admiration also. Her very freedom evidenced to his mind that he was really accepted, had been taken into a new intimacy; no longer to be held and treated as an interloper, a stranger employed for a purpose. She had deliberately cast aside the conventional, and become natural in his presence--free to speak and act as the spirit moved. This was a victory, and he chose to interpret it as proof that she already really liked and trusted him. Actuated by this feeling, she no longer deemed it necessary to dissemble in his presence. It was a long step in advance. He had arrived at this very pleasant conclusion, when Sexton appeared in the door, evidently looking for some one. The man espied him there in the shadow of the vines, and came forward. "Miss Coolidge requests your presence, sir, for a few moments," he said gravely. "Why, certainly; did she say where, Sexton?" "In the library, sir; she is waiting there now." West hesitated an instant. There was a question he was eager to ask, but immediately thought better of it. Interviewing servants was not in his line, and there were other ways of learning the truth. "Very well," he said quietly. "I will join her at once. Thank you, Sexton," and disappeared into the cool, darkened hall. CHAPTER IX AN UNEXPECTED DISMISSAL The shades had been drawn closely to exclude the sun, and, for a moment after he first crossed the threshold of the library, West was unable to distinguish any occupant. He heard Sexton silently close the door behind him, but it was not until she moved slightly that he was able to perceive her presence directly across from where he stood. Her voice broke the silence. "You will find a seat next to the window, Captain," she said quietly. "It was very good of you to come." "The pleasure was mine," he replied. "Only I am blinded coming in here from the bright sunshine without." "I have had a touch of headache--nervous, no doubt, from the visit this morning--and so ordered Sexton to draw the shades. Your eyes will soon accustom themselves to the lack of light. I see you quite well."