came to pay my respects as a kinsman. Do you know that I am a
relation?"

"That is a very pretty compliment to us all, I think."

"It is you who are kind in accepting me."

"As a relative, I am very glad to----"

"I came," he said, "to see _you_. And you know it."

"But you _couldn't_ do that, uninvited! I had not asked you."

"But--it's done," he said.

She sat very still, considering him. Within her, subtle currents
seemed to be contending once more, disturbing her equanimity. She
said, sweetly:

"I am not as offended as I ought to be. But I do not see why you
should disregard convention with me."

"I didn't mean it that way," he said, leaning forward. "I couldn't
stand not seeing you. That was all. Convention is a pitiful
thing--sometimes--" He hesitated, then fell to studying the carpet.

She looked at him, silent in her uncertainty. His expression was
grave, almost absent-minded. And again her troubled eyes rested on
the disturbing symmetry of feature and figure in all the
unconscious grace of repose; and in his immobility there seemed