Training, the habit of the mask, came to her aid. Jimmie, entering, saw only the royal lady who had looked kindly upon him in the golden September days. She came to meet him frankly, as one meets an old friend. A new vision revealed to her the heart that leapt into his eyes, as they rested upon her. Mistress of herself, she hardened her own, but smiled and spoke softly. “It is great good fortune you have come, so that I can thank you,” she said. “But how can I ever thank you--for that?” “It is a small gift enough,” said Jimmie. “Your acceptance is more than thanks.” “I shall prize it dearly. It is like nothing that can be bought. It is something out of yourself you are giving me.” “If you look at it in that light,” said he, “I am happy indeed.” With a common instinct they went up to the portrait and regarded it side by side. Conventional words passed. He enquired after Morland. “You have n't seen him for a long time?” she asked hesitatingly. “Not for a long time.” “You must have been very lonely.” “I have had Aline--and Connie Deering--and my work.” “Are they sufficient for you?” “Any human love a man gets he can make fill his life. It's like the grain of mustard-seed.” Norma felt a thrill of admiration. Not a tone in his voice betrayed complaint, reproach, or bitterness. Instead, he sounded the note of thanksgiving for the love bestowed upon him, of faith in the perfect ordering of the world. She glanced at him, and felt that she had wronged him. No matter what was the solution of the mystery, she knew him to be a sweet-souled man, wonderfully steadfast. “Your old way,” she replied with a smile, sitting down and motioning him to a chair beside her. “Do you remember that we first met in this very room? You have not changed. Have I?” “No,” he said gravely, “you were always beautiful, without and within. I told you that then, if you remember. Perhaps, now, you are a little truer to yourself.” “Do you think so?” she asked, somewhat bitterly. “Perhaps it is the approach of your great happiness,” blundered Jimmie, in perfect conviction. She was silent. “It has been more to me than I can say,” he went on, “to see you once again--as you are, before your marriage. I wish you many blessings--all that love can bring you.” “Do you think love is necessary for married happiness?” “Without it marriage must be a horror,” said Jimmie. For a moment she was on the brink of harsh laughter. Did he sincerely believe she was in love with Morland? She could have hurled the question at him. Will checked the rising hysteria and turned it into other channels. “Why have you never married? You must have loved somebody once.” It was a relief to hurt him. The dusk was gathering in the room, and she could scarcely see his face. A Sunday stillness filled the quiet square outside. The hour had its dangers. “My having loved a woman does not necessarily imply that I could have married her,” said Jimmie.