Mrs. Hutter bustled in from the kitchen, where manifestly she had been
importantly engaged. "For the land's sakes!" she exclaimed, fervently, as
she threw up her hands at sight of Carley. Her expression was indeed a
compliment, but there was a suggestion of shock in it. Then Flo came in.
She wore a simple gray gown that reached the top of her high shoes.

"Carley, don't mind mother," said Flo. "She means your dress is lovely.
Which is my say, too. . . . But, listen. I just saw Glenn comin' up the
road."

Carley ran to the open door with more haste than dignity. She saw a tall
man striding along. Something about him appeared familiar. It was his
walk--an erect swift carriage, with a swing of the march still visible. She
recognized Glenn. And all within her seemed to become unstable. She watched
him cross the road, face the house. How changed! No--this was not Glenn
Kilbourne. This was a bronzed man, wide of shoulder, roughly garbed, heavy
limbed, quite different from the Glenn she remembered. He mounted the porch
steps. And Carley, still unseen herself, saw his face. Yes--Glenn! Hot
blood seemed to be tingling liberated in her veins. Wheeling away, she
backed against the wall behind the door and held up a warning finger to
Flo, who stood nearest. Strange and disturbing then, to see something in
Flo Hutter's eyes that could be read by a woman in only one way!

A tall form darkened the doorway. It strode in and halted.

"Flo!--who--where?" he began, breathlessly.

His voice, so well remembered, yet deeper, huskier, fell upon Carley's ears
as something unconsciously longed for. His frame had so filled out that she