He held her at arms' length, gazing at her, half amused, half indignant;
then, unbidden, a second flash of the old telepathy passed between
them--a pale glimmer lighted his own dark heart in sympathy; and for a
moment he seemed to have a brief glimpse of the truth; and the truth was
not as he had imagined it. But it was a glimpse only--a fleeting
suspicion of his own fallibility; then it vanished into the old, dull,
aching, obstinate humiliation. For truth would not be truth if it were
so easily discovered.

"Well, we've buried it now," breathed Selwyn. "You're all right,
Nina--from your own standpoint--and I'm not going to make a stalking
nuisance of myself; no fear, little sister. Hello!"--turning
swiftly--"here's that preposterous husband of yours."

They exchanged a firm hand clasp; Austin Gerard, big, smooth shaven,
humorously inclined toward the ruddy heaviness of successful middle age;
Selwyn, lean, bronzed, erect, and direct in all the powerful symmetry
and perfect health of a man within sight of maturity.

"Hail to the chief--et cetera," said Austin, in his large, bantering
voice. "Glad to see you home, my bolo-punctured soldier boy. Welcome to
our city! I suppose you've both pockets stuffed with loot, now haven't
you?--pearls and sarongs and dattos--yes? Have you inspected the kids?
What's your opinion of the Gerard batallion? Pretty fit? Nina's
commanding, so it's up to her if we don't pass dress parade. By the
way, your enormous luggage is here--consisting of one dinky trunk and a
sword done up in chamois skin."

"Nina's good enough to want me for a few days--" began Selwyn, but his
big brother-in-law laughed scornfully: