and at the same moment her sister-in-law entered.

Berkley, already on his feet, turned short: and when she offered
him a hand as slim and white as Ailsa's, he glanced inquiringly at
the latter, not at all certain who this charming woman might be.

"Mrs. Craig," said Ailsa.

"I don't believe it," he said. "You haven't grown-up children!"

"Don't you really believe it, Mr. Berkley? Or is it just the
flattering Irish in you that natters us poor women to our
destruction?"

He had sense and wit enough to pay her a quick and really graceful
compliment; to which she responded, still laughing:

"Oh, it is the Ormond in you! I am truly ve'y glad you came. You
are Constance Berkley's son--Connie Berkley! The sweetest girl
that ever lived."

There was a silence. Then Mrs. Craig said gently:

"I was her maid of honour, Mr. Berkley."

Ailsa raised her eyes to his altered face, startled at the change
in it. He looked at her absently, then his gaze reverted to Ailsa
Paige.

"I loved her dearly," said Mrs. Craig, dropping a light, impulsive