“Hello, Wint.” The old note of reckless courage and good nature was gone from her voice; and when he saw her more clearly, in the lighted dining room, he saw his mother was right. Hetty did not look happy. Her eyes were tired; and there were shadows beneath them. Her face was thinner, too. He thought she did not look well. During supper, while she waited upon them, he told her so. “You’ve been working too hard, Hetty. You don’t look like yourself.” She said, with a twisted smile, that she was all right. There was a harsh note in her voice. It disturbed Wint; but he said no more. During the succeeding days and weeks, he grew accustomed to her changed appearance. He no longer thought of it. In mid-April, Jack Routt came out to the house one night to see Wint. The visit seemed casual enough. He said he had thought he would drop in for a smoke and a talk. He came early, only a few minutes after supper, and Hetty was clearing away the supper dishes. When she heard his voice in the hall, she stood very still for a moment, looking that way. Wint did not see her. Routt laid aside his hat, and then he saw Hetty, and he called to her: “Hello, Hetty.” She said evenly: “Hello, Jack.” Then Routt and Wint went up to Wint’s room, and Hetty stood very still where she was for a little time, before she went on with her work. Upstairs, Routt was saying: “I’d forgotten Hetty was working for you.” “Yes,” said Wint. Routt lighted a cigarette. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Wint nodded. “Not as pretty as she was in school. Remember what a picture she used to be, hair in a braid, and those cream-red cheeks of hers?” “Guess I do,” Routt agreed warmly. He looked at Wint and grinned. “Don’t know that I’d want her living in the same house with me,” he said. “Why not?” Wint asked. “Damned bad for my peace of mind.” Wint flushed. He was a curiously clean, innocent chap in some ways. He felt a little ashamed by the mere existence of the thought which had prompted Routt’s covert suggestion. “I’m glad you dropped in, Jack,” he said. “Good to see you here again. Like old times.” If he had been less busy with the work of his office, and with his study, Wint might have thought more about Hetty during the next few weeks. But--he didn’t. They saw each other daily, and once or twice he realized that she was not as good-natured as she had been. There were times when she was sullen.... For the most part, however, he did not think of her at all.