Presently Ann noticed that a shadow had settled on her lover's face.
Womanlike, she questioned him.

"Is there anything the matter, Dear?" she asked, drawing him to the
divan.

"Nothing serious. I've been talking with Father."

"Yes?"

She waited for him to continue; but he sat silent, wrapped in thought
for a long minute. At last, however, he spoke gloomily:

"Ann, I wish I knew who my own people were."

"Aren't you satisfied with those you have, Everett?" There was sweet
reproof in the girl's tones.

"More than satisfied," he said; "but somehow I feel--no I won't say it,
Ann. It would seem caddish to you."

"Nothing you could say to me would seem that," she answered.

Everett rose and walked up and down the room. "Well, it seems to me
that, although the blood of the Brimbecomb's is blue, mine is bluer
still; that, while they have many famous ancestors, I have still more
illustrious ones. I feel sometimes a longing to run wild and do
unheard-of things, and to make men know my strength, to--well, to
virtually turn the world upside down."