mining shares; I--but I won't bore you with these disagreeables"--
pulling himself up with an air of forced cheerfulness.

"But I want to know," said Deb. "You spoke of worries--Mary's worries
--worries now; are you still--"

He spread his hands and wagged his head.

"I'd rather not talk about our troubles," he sighed. "I don't want to
dim the sunshine of your--"

And suddenly his eye flashed and his brow contracted with annoyance.
Mary--somewhat hesitatingly, to be sure--walked in.

Robert had insisted that the pater was all wrong in his idea that it
was proper for him alone to receive the visitor, and for the mistress
of the house to linger inhospitably after it was known that she must
know of the visitor's arrival. Robert had coerced his mother into doing
the correct thing. Politely he opened the drawing-room door for her--
that, of course, was absolutely the correct thing--and
escorted her forward with the aplomb of a man of the world, nicely
blended with the respectfulness appropriate to a nephew and a
school-boy.

"Ah, HERE she is!" Mr Goldsworthy exclaimed heartily.

The sisters were at once in each other's arms. Deb, pierced to the
heart by Mary's aged and faded looks, was the most demonstrative of the
two; Mary struck her after a moment as being a little reserved and
chilly--as if on the watch to repel benevolence as soon as it should