voice arrested him.

"You wouldn't mind telling me, would you, the Governor's name?"

"Not in the least. His name is Gideon Vetch."

"Gideon Vetch?" She repeated the name slowly, as if she were impressing
it on her memory. "That's a queer name for a Governor. Was he born in
this town?"

"I think not."

"And who lives with him? I saw a girl come out awhile ago. Is she his
daughter, perhaps--or his wife--though she looked young for that."

"It must have been his daughter. His wife is not living."

"Is she his only child? Or has he others?" There was a quiver of
suspense in her voice, and turning he looked at her more closely. Was it
possible that she had known Gideon Vetch in his obscure past?

"She is his only child," he replied.

"Well, that's nice for her. Is she pretty?" An odd question if it had
been put by a man; but he had been trained to accept the fact that women
are different.

"Yes, you would call her pretty." As he spoke the words there flashed
through his mind the picture of Patty Vetch as he had seen her that
afternoon, in her red cape and her small hat with the red wings, against