"In--Fanny Dodge?" he repeated.

He became instantly angry with himself for the dismayed astonishment
he had permitted to escape him, and increasingly so because of the
uncontrollable tide of crimson which invaded his face.

She was looking at him, with the calm, direct gaze which had more
than once puzzled him.

"You know her very well, don't you?"

"Why, of course, Miss Dodge is--she is--er--one of our leading young
people, and naturally-- She plays our little organ in church and
Sunday School. Of course you've noticed. She is most useful
and--er--helpful."

Lydia appeared to be considering his words with undue gravity.

"But I didn't come here this morning to talk to you about another
woman," he said, with undeniable hardihood. "I want to talk to
you--_to you_--and what I have to say--"

Lydia got up from her chair rather suddenly.

"Please excuse me a moment," she said, quite as if he had not spoken.

He heard her cross the hall swiftly. In a moment she had returned.

"I found this picture on the floor--after they had gone," she said,