There was a pause, then she said: "Aunt Bell, when a woman comes to make her very last effort at self-deception, why does she fling herself into it with such abandon--such pretentious flourishes of remorse--and things? Is it because some under layer of her soul knows it will be the last and will have it a thorough test? I wonder how much of an arrant fraud a woman may really be to herself, even in her surest, happiest moments." "There you are again, wondering, wondering--instead of accepting things and dressing for dinner. Have you seen Allan?" "Oh, yes--I've been seeing him for three days--through a glass, darkly." Aunt Bell flounced on into the library, trailing something perilously near a sniff. Bernal came down the stairs and stood in the door. "Well, Nance!" He went to stand before her and she looked up to him. There was still light enough to see his eyes--enough to see, also, that he was embarrassed. "Well--I've had quite a talk with Allan." He laughed a little constrained, uneasy laugh, looking quickly at her to see if she might be observing him. "He's the same fine old chap, isn't he?" Quickly his eyes again sought her face. "Yes, indeed, he's the same old boy--a great old Allan--only he makes me feel that I have changed, Nance." She arose from her chair, feeling cramped and restless from sitting so long. "I'm sure you haven't changed, Bernal." "Oh, I must have!" He was looking at her very closely through the dusk. "Yes, we had an interesting talk," he said again. He reached out to take one of her hands, which he held an instant in both his own. "He's a rare old Allan, Nance!" CHAPTER XIII THE WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS OF THE GREAT MACHINE For three days the brothers were inseparable. There were so many ancient matters to bring forward of which each could remember but a half; so many new ones, of which each must tell his own story. And there was a matter of finance between them that had been brought forward by Allan without any foolish delay. Each of them spoke to Nancy about it.