She was unconscious of the effect of her words. But his soul shrank
within him. To her he was the lodger who paid the rent. To him she
was, well, just now she was, to him, the Blessed Damosel!

Faintly in the distance they heard the closing of a door. "It's
Barry," Mary said, and suddenly a wave of self-consciousness swept over
her. What would Barry think to find her at this hour talking to Roger
Poole? And what would he think of Roger Poole, who walked in the
garden on a rainy night?

Roger saw her confusion. "I'll turn out this light," he said, "and
wait----"

And she waited, too, in the darkness until Barry was safe in his own
room, then she spoke softly. "Thank you so much," she said, and was
gone.




CHAPTER V

_In Which Roger Remembers a Face and Delilah Remembers a Voice--and in
Which a Poem and a Pussy Cat Play an Important Part._


Since the night of his arrival, Roger had not intruded upon the family
circle. He had read hostility in Barry's eyes as the boy had looked up
at him; and Mary, in spite of her friendliness, had forgotten that he was