Barbara Thurston stood at the window of a large old-fashioned house,
looking out into Connecticut Avenue. It was almost dark. An occasional
light twinkled outside in the street, but the room in which Barbara was
stationed was still shrouded in twilight.

Suddenly she heard a curtain at the farther end of the drawing-room
rustle faintly.

Bab turned and saw a young man standing between the curtains, peering
into the shadows with a pair of near-sighted eyes.

Barbara started. The stranger had entered the room through a small study
that adjoined it. He seemed totally unaware of any other presence, for he
was whistling softly: "Kathleen Mavourneen."

"I beg your pardon," Bab began impulsively, "but are you looking for
some one?"

The newcomer flashed a charming smile at Barbara. He did not seem in the
least surprised at her appearance.

"No," he declared cheerfully, "I was not looking for any one or anything.
The butler told me Mr. Hamlin and Harriet were both out. But, I say,
don't you think I am fortunate to have found you quite by accident! I
came in here to loaf a few minutes."

Barbara frowned slightly. The young man's manner was surprisingly
familiar, and she had never seen him before in her life.