disconnectedly, while she talked and laughed.

It never occurred to her to have Martha moved up from the foot of the
table. Once or twice she stole a glance at the woman who had in the
olden days dandled her on her knees. The glance was a mixture of guilt
and mischief, like a child's. But the glance had not the power to
attract Martha's eyes. Martha felt the glances as surely as if she had
lifted her eyes to meet them. She held her peace. She had not been
brought along as Elsa's guardian. Elsa was not self-willed but
strong-willed, and Martha realized that any interference would result
in estrangement. In fact, Martha beheld in Warrington a real menace.
The extraordinary resemblance would naturally appeal to Elsa, with what
results she could only imagine. Later she asked Elsa if she had told
Warrington of the remarkable resemblance.

"Mercy, no! And what is more, I do not want him to know. Men are vain
as a rule; and I should not like to hurt his vanity by telling him that
I sought his acquaintance simply because he might easily have been
Arthur Ellison's twin brother."

"The man you are engaged to marry."

"Whom I have promised to marry, provided the state of my sentiments is
unchanged upon my return; which is altogether a different thing."

"That does not seem quite fair to Mr. Ellison."

"Well, Martha?"

"I beg your pardon, Elsa; but the stranger terrifies me. He is