go.

Rufus moved then, moved abruptly as one coming out of a dream. His eyes
swooped down upon the lithe, active figure at his side. They held a
smile--a fiery smile that gleamed meteor-like and passed.

"All right, Adam," he said in his deep-chested voice.

And with a sidelong nod Adam wheeled and departed. He had done his
morning's work.




CHAPTER II

THE PASSION-FLOWER


"Where's that Columbine?" said Mrs. Peck.

A gay trill like the call of a blackbird in the dawning answered her.
Columbine, with a pink sun-bonnet over her black hair, was watering the
flowers in the little conservatory that led out of the drawing-room. She
had just come in from the garden, and a gorgeous red rose was pinned
upon her breast. Mrs. Peck stood in the doorway and watched her.

The face above the red rose was so lovely that even her matter-of-fact
soul had to pause to admire. It was a perpetual wonder to her and a
perpetual fascination. The dark, unawakened eyes, the long, perfect