“Mr. Ralston,” said the man, announcing John, who entered immediately afterwards. The door closed behind him as he came forward. Katharine’s heart jumped, as she became conscious of his presence. It was as though a strong current of life had been turned upon her after having been long alone with death. Ralston moved easily, with the freedom that comes naturally of good proportions. His bright brown eyes gleamed with pleasure, and the hard, defiant lines of the lean face relaxed in a rare smile. He kissed her tenderly, with a nervous, passionate lightness that belongs only to finely organized beings, twice or three times. And then she kissed him once with all her heart, and looked into the eyes she loved. “How good it is to have this chance!” he exclaimed, happily. “This is better than South Fifth Avenue at nine o’clock in the morning--isn’t it? Why didn’t we think of it before?” “I can’t be always stopping with uncle Robert, you know,” answered Katharine. “I wish I could.” Something in the tone of the last words attracted his attention. With a gentle touch he made her turn her face to the light, and looked at her. “What’s happened?” he asked, suddenly. “There’s been some trouble, I know. Tell me--you’ve had more worry at home, haven’t you?” “Oh--it’s nothing!” Katharine answered, lightly. “You see how easy it is for me to get away. What does it matter?” “Yes--but there has been something,” insisted John, shaking his head. “I don’t like this, Katharine.” He turned away from her, and his eyes fell upon the portrait. It instantly fixed his attention. “Holloa!” he exclaimed. “Why is it here? I thought it was for Hester.” Katharine laughed. “He brought it this morning,” she answered. “He’s changed his mind, and has given it to uncle Robert. How do you like it?” John looked at it long, his eyelids drooping a little. When he turned his head, he looked directly at Katharine’s mouth critically. “You haven’t got a mouth like that,” he said, suddenly. “And I never saw that expression in your eyes, either,” he added, a moment later. “What’s the fellow been doing?” “I don’t know, Jack. But I don’t like it. I’m sure of that, at all events.” “Does uncle Robert like it?” “No. He’s anything but pleased, though he thought it splendid at first. Then he saw what you and I see. It wasn’t so in the studio, it seems to me. He’s done something to it since. Never mind the picture, Jack. Sit down, and let’s talk, since we’ve got a chance at last.” John’s eyes lingered on the portrait a moment longer, then he turned away with an impatient movement, and sat down beside Katharine. He stroked her hand gently two or three times, and neither said anything. Then he leaned back in his straight chair and crossed one knee over the other. “Somebody’s trying to get me out of Beman’s,” he said, and his face darkened. “I wish I knew who it was.” “Trying to get you out of the bank?” repeated Katharine, in surprise. “Oh, Jack, you must be mistaken.”