"I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you, and Lance has thought of
nothing else during the last week."

I wonder that I didn't cry out, "You are the woman who drowned the
little child off the Chain Pier." It was only the sight of Lance's face
that deterred me. I had some vague, indistinct notion of what those
words would be to him.

"What is the matter, John?" asked Lance, impatiently. "The sight of my
wife's face seems to have struck you dumb."

"It must be with admiration, then," I said, making a desperate effort to
recover myself. "I could almost think I had seen Mrs. Fleming's face
before."

She looked at me frankly, and she laughed frankly.

"I have a good memory for faces," she said; "and I do not remember to
have seen yours."

There was no shadow of fear or of any effect at concealment; she did not
change color or shrink from me.

Lance laughed aloud.

"I wonder no longer at your being a bachelor," he said; "if the sight of
a beautiful face produces such a strange effect on you. You must deal
gently with him, Frances," he said to his wife; "his nerves are weak--he
cannot bear much at a time."