It was therefore with mingled and untranslatable emotions that she studied this picture. She marked with a certain resentment the bold beauty quite apparent despite the dim fading outlines of a photograph never very good. So far as she could discern the woman was dark haired and dark eyed--her direct antithesis! The casual viewer would have found little to find fault with in the presentment, but Enid Maitland's eyes were sharpened by--what, pray? At any rate she decided that the woman was of a rather coarse fiber, that in things finer and higher she would be found wanting. She was such a woman, so the girl reasoned acutely, as might inspire a passionate affection in a strong hearted, reckless youth, but whose charms being largely physical would pall in longer and more intimate association; a dangerous rival in a charge, but not so formidable in a steady campaign. These thoughts were the result of long and earnest inspection and it was with some reluctance that the girl at last put the photograph aside and looked toward the door. She was hungry, ravenously so. She began to be a little alarmed and had just about made up her mind to rise and stumble out as she was, when she heard steps outside and a knock on the door. "What is it?" she asked in response. "May I come in?" "Yes," was the quick answer. The man opened the door, left it ajar and entered the room. "Have you been awake long?" he began abruptly. "Not very." "I didn't disturb you because you needed sleep more than anything else. How do you feel?" "Greatly refreshed, thank you." "And hungry, I suppose?" "Very." "I will soon remedy that. Your foot?" "It seems much better, but I--" The girl hesitated, blushing. "I can't get my shoe on and--" "Shall I have another look at it?" "No, I don't believe it will be necessary. If I may have some of that liniment, or whatever it was you put on it, and more of that bandage, I think I can attend to it myself, but you see my stocking and my boot--" The man nodded, he seemed to understand; he went to his cracker box chiffonier and drew from it a long coarse woolen stocking. "That is the best that I can do for you," he said, extending it toward her somewhat diffidently. "And that will do very nicely," said the girl. "It will cover the bandage and that is the main thing." The man laid on the table by the side of the stocking another strip of bandage torn from the same sheet; as he did so he noticed the picture. He caught it up quickly, a dark flush spreading over his face, and holding it in his hand he turned abruptly away. "I will go and cook you some breakfast while you get yourself ready. If you have not washed, you'll find a bucket of water and a basin and towel outside the door."