was gone with a kiss and a hug.

"I didn't know . . . ." she began haltingly, only to be cut short by
Mrs. Engle crying to her husband:

"It's Virginia Page, John. Wouldn't you have known her anywhere?"

John Engle, courteous, urbane, a pleasant-featured man with grave,
kindly eyes and a rather large, firm-lipped mouth nodded to Norton and
gave Virginia his hand cordially.

"I must be satisfied with a hand-shake, Miss Page," he said in a deep,
pleasant voice, "but I refuse to be a mere stranger. We are immensely
glad to have you with us. . . . Mother, can't you see we have most
thoroughly mystified her; swooping down on her like this without giving
her an inkling of how and why we expected her?"

Roderick Norton and Florrie Engle had drawn a little apart; Virginia,
with her back to them during the greeting of Mrs. and Mr. Engle, had no
way of knowing whether the withdrawal had been by mutually spontaneous
desire or whether the initiative had been the sheriff's or Miss
Engle's. Not that it mattered or concerned her in any slightest
particular.

In her hand was the note of introduction she had brought from Mrs. Seth
Morgan; evidently both its services and those of Roderick Norton might
be dispensed with in the matter of her being presented.

"Of course," Mrs. Engle was saying. An arm about the girl's slim
waist, she drew her to a big leather couch. "Marian never does things