Footsteps and low voices, punctuated with silver laughter, heralded her coming, and a few minutes later she entered, carrying a pocket edition of herself, who clung about her neck, and pressed a cool rose-petal cheek against her own. Lenox had described her as a magnificent woman. A Scot may generally be trusted not to overstate his facts; and certainly Honor Desmond, in those radiant early days of marriage, deserved no less an adjective. Height, and a buoyant stateliness of bearing, lent a regal quality to her beauty. Her grey-blue eyes under very level brows were the eyes of a woman dwelling in the heart of life, not merely in its outskirts and pleasure-grounds. She expressed no surprise at seeing Lenox again so soon. Come when he might, his presence was accepted as a matter of course; the surest way to put a man at his ease. "So sorry I kept you waiting," she said simply, and the hand she gave him was at once soft and strong,--an epitome of the woman. "Theo was lunching out with Colonel Mayhew--they are both very full of that book of his on the Hill Tribes--and I have been devoting most of my time to this very exacting person!" Lenox caressed the child's red-gold hair with a cautious reverent hand, and a contraction of envy at his heart. "What a beautiful little chap he is! Begins to look an out-and-out Meredith already. Desmond must be tremendously proud of him." She smiled and pressed him closer. "He is; and I'm nearly as bad! One son, three fools, you know! Poor little Paul, it's not fair to call him names when he can't hit back." "You called him after Wyndham?" "Yes. They're like brothers, those two. Now let me get rid of him, and we'll have a quiet talk till Theo comes back. Sit down and smoke, please." He complied; and she, returning, established herself beside her work-table, and took up an elaborate bit of smocking without question or remark. His trouble and stress of mind were very evident to her; but she was one of those rare women who are chary of questions--who, for all their desire to help and serve, never approach too near, or say the word too much, which was, perhaps, one reason why men found her so restful, and instinctively talked to her about themselves. But Lenox was long in beginning. By imperceptible degrees, this unsought gift of friendship was melting the morsel of ice at his heart; was reviving in him, against his will, that keen appreciation of a cultivated woman's sympathy and companionship, which, among finely tempered men, is as potent a factor in the shaping of destinies as passion, or hot-headed emotion.