She bent toward him as though threatening his pockets. He laughed, but coloured deeply; then he drew from his waistcoat a thin silver case a trifle larger than a silver dollar, and suffered Fanny to take it. “Now,” said Colonel Craighill, settling himself in his chair, “you see I am not afraid, Fanny, of even your severe judgment.” She weighed the unopened trinket in her palm as though taunting her curiosity. Wayne lighted a fresh cigarette and turned toward his sister. He was surprised at his own indifference; but he feigned curiosity to please his father, who naturally wished his children to be interested and pleased. Fanny opened the locket and studied it carefully for an instant. “Charming! Perfectly charming!” she exclaimed; and then, holding it close and turning her head and pursing her lips as she studied the face, “but I thought you didn’t like such fussy hair dressing--you always told me so. I don’t like the ultra-marcelling; but it’s well done--and if it’s all hers and she can manage it without a rat she’s a wonder. You’ve always decried the artificial, but I see you’re finding that Nature has her weak points. Those eyes are just a trifle inscrutable, a little heavy-lidded and dreamy--but we’ll have to see the original. Her nose seems regular enough, and her mouth--well, I wouldn’t trust any photograph to tell the truth about a mouth. She’s young--my own lost youth smites me! Here, Wayne, behold her counterfeit presentment!” Wayne inhaled a last deep draught of his cigarette and dropped it into the ash tray. He took the case into his fingers and bent over it, a slight smile on his lips. “Be careful! Be careful!” ejaculated his sister. “This is a crucial moment.” Wayne’s empty hand that lay on the table slowly opened and shut; the smile left his lips, but he continued to study the picture. “Well, Wayne! Are you having so much trouble to make up your mind?” demanded Mrs. Blair, her keen sensibilities aroused by the fixedness of Wayne’s stare at the likeness before him and the resulting interval of suspense. There was something here that she did not grasp, and she was a woman who resented being left in the dark. This interview with her father had been trying enough, but her brother’s manner struck her ominously. Colonel Craighill smiled urbanely, undisturbed by his son’s prolonged scrutiny of the face in the locket; he attached no great importance to Wayne’s opinions on any subject. To Mrs. Blair, however, the silence became intolerable and she demanded: “Are you hypnotized--or what has struck you, Wayne?” “Nothing at all!” he laughed, closing the locket and handing it back. “I have no criticism--most certainly none. Father, I offer my congratulations.” And this happened midway of September, in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and seven. CHAPTER II THE LADY OF DIFFICULT OCCASIONS