stain was not upon his lips. He had escaped. Yet by how narrow a margin.

The girl felt the man's changed attitude without in the least
understanding it. She thought it had been the cry of the child that made
him jump up and fling her hands from him with that sudden "Hark!" in the
moment when he had almost yielded. She did not know that an inner voice
had called him. She only knew that she had lost him for the time, and
her vanity was still panting like a wild thing that has lost its prey.

He gathered the little boy into his arms when he had bound up the cut,
and talked to him cheerfully. The child's curly head rested trustfully
against the big shoulder.

"Floor all bluggy!" he remarked, languidly. "Wall all bluggy!" Then his
eyes fell on his sister in her scarlet frock. "Gila all bluggy, too!" he
laughed, and pointed with his well hand.

"Be still, Harry!" said Gila, sharply, and when Courtland looked up in
wonder he saw the delicate brows drawn blackly, and the mouth had lost
its innocent sweetness. The child shrank in his arms, and he put a
reassuring hand upon the little head that snuggled comfortedly against
his coat. It was one of Courtland's strong points, this love of little
children. He grew fine and gentle in their presence. It often drew
attention on the athletic field when some little fellow strayed his way
and Courtland would turn to talk to the child. People would stop their
conversation and look his way; and a whole grand stand would come to
silence just to see him walk across the diamond with a little
golden-haired kid upon his shoulder. There was something inexpressibly
beautiful about his attitude toward a child.