first appearance gone in a flash to be replaced by a vague hint of
stiffness. "Mama will be so glad to see you. Do come in."

She turned and led the way down the wide, deep hall and into the
living-room, a chamber which boldly defied one to remember that he was
still upon the rim of the desert. In one swift glance the newcomer to
San Juan was offered a picture in which the tall, carelessly clad form
of the sheriff became incongruous; she wondered that he remained at his
ease as he so obviously did. Yonder was a grand piano, a silver chased
vase upon a wall bracket over it holding three long-stemmed, red roses;
a heavy, massive-topped table strewn comfortably and invitingly with
books and magazines; an exquisite rug and one painting upon the far
wall, an original seascape suggestive of Waugh at his best; excellent
leather-upholstered chairs luxuriously inviting, and at once homelike
and rich. Just rising from one of these chairs drawn up to the table
reading-lamp, a book still in his hand, was Mr. Engle, while Mrs.
Engle, as fair as her daughter, just beginning to grow stout in
lavendar, came forward smilingly.

"Back again, Roddy?" She gave him a plump hand, patted his lean brown
fingers after her motherly fashion, and came to where the girl had
stopped just within the door.

"Virginia Page, aren't you? As if any one in the world would have to
tell me who _you_ were! You are your mother all over, child; did you
know it? Oh, kiss me, kiss me, my dear, for your mother's sake, and
save your hand-shakes for strangers."

Virginia, taken utterly by surprise as Mrs. Engle's arms closed warmly
about her, grew rosy with pleasure; the dreary loneliness of a long day