As a matter of fact, while Raymond was no better nor worse than the average young man visiting the marriage market, Nancy had selected him for worship and glorification. He loomed high and then, suddenly, he loomed alone! There is that in woman which selects for its own. It is not merely the instinct of mating, it is choice, in the main, and makes either for success or failure--but it always has its compensations in that vague, groping sense that calls for its own. The world may look on wondering or dismayed, but the woman, under the crude exterior, clings to the ideal she sought. With Nancy and Raymond conditions favoured the moment. Nancy had a wide choice and she was radiantly happy. Doris saw to it that the girl should see and hear the best of everything and be free to live her days unfettered. Raymond had inherited the purest desires for family and home--he had never seen them gratified in his parents' life, so they still lay dormant in his heart. Nancy presently awakened them and Cameron's mistaken attitude drove them into action. Raymond counted Nancy's charms. Her devotion to her aunt, her unselfish service while her twin sister followed her own devices, Doctor Martin's very pronounced admiration, and Mrs. Tweksbury's ardent affection all carried him along like favouring winds. And presently the constant appearance of Cameron with Nancy lashed Raymond to the amazing conviction that he was in love! He grew pale and abstracted; the revealment was pouring like light and sun into the depths of his nature. He wished that he was a better man; he thanked whatever god he reverenced that he was not a worse one. He recalled the one foolish episode of his youth with contempt for his weakness and gratitude for the escape--not only for himself but for the unknown girl. As a proof of the sincerity of his present change of heart he wished above everything that he might find the girl and confess to her, for he felt, beyond doubt, that it would give her joy. He believed this, not because he wanted to believe it, but because he felt the truth of it, and presently it gave him courage. But there was Cameron! Finally Raymond discovered that his business was suffering. He grew indifferent to the exact hour of leaving his office; took no pride in his well-regulated habits. He began to dislike Cameron and he dreamed of Nancy. Day and night he saw her as the safe and sweet solution of all that was best in him. She held sacred what his inheritance reverenced; she was human and divine; she was his salvation--or Cameron's. At this point Mrs. Tweksbury gave him an unlooked-for stab. "Well!" she remarked with a groan--she never sighed, "I guess Clive Cameron has got in at the death!" She looked gruesome and defeated. Raymond grew hot and cold. "What do you mean?" he asked, and glared shamelessly.