"Yes, he married--about ten days after you sailed. It was a surprise--a shock--to all of us. The first we knew of it was when he brought her home with him." Joan was making an ineffectual attempt to keep her emotions in check, to conceal the evidence that the news had been a terrible blow to her. "Why--why, I had no idea that Kirk was even interested in any one." "Neither did any of us. It seems that he fell madly in love with her almost at first sight; they were married, I believe, a week after their first meeting. I can't understand how a man would rush headlong into marriage like that, although she is pretty." Joan's mind reverted to the beautiful woman she had seen asleep in the porch hammock. "She--she is here now? Then that--that woman I saw downstairs is Kirk's wife? Kirk's wife?" She laughed unsteadily. "It's so hard for me to believe--coming so suddenly like this. Yes, she is pretty; not only pretty--beautiful." She walked slowly to the window and stood there, her back to the room, trying to keep her face from her mother's eyes. But Mrs. Gilmore was not deceived; she had known for a long time and had feared that the situation would bring only unhappiness. Although Joan was Mrs. Gilmore's daughter, she still bore her father's name of Sheridan. Her mother, left a widow, had married Peyton Gilmore, a childhood sweetheart, who had himself been previously married. Peyton Gilmore had been a well-known New York lawyer. Those with long memories may remember that he had dropped dead in a crowded courtroom, during a famous murder trial, while pleading for the life of his client. There was a son, Kirklan Gilmore, only twelve years old at the time of his father's death, and Kirklan's rearing had fallen to his stepmother. The two families, merged into one, had long occupied the picturesque, rural New York estate of Greenacres, without friction or discord. Joan and Kirklan had always hit it off well together, and when, after a try at law, Kirklan had turned to writing, it was Joan who sympathized the most over his failures and rejoiced the most over his successes. Realizing that Joan's deft touches had helped the tremendous success of his novel, "Rogue's Paradise," Kirklan had given his stepsister a trip abroad. The silence became so long, so painful that Mrs. Gilmore felt that something had to be said. "Her name," she murmured, "is Helen--Helen Banton before she married Kirklan." "Does--does he seem to be--very much in love with her, mother?" "Very much in love with her," Mrs. Gilmore answered, and Joan winced. "I--I hope he will be very happy," the latter said with a muffled voice. Mrs. Gilmore shook her head slowly. "I'm afraid that he won't be, my dear. A pretty face is not sufficient to make a man happy. 'Marry in haste, repent at leisure.' It's an old saying, but it's true--as most of the old sayings are. Kirklan has made a mistake, a terrible mistake." "I don't believe you like her, mother."