in which I received my former college friend! He IS Rafel Santoris--
I ought to have known that there's only one of his type! But the
curious part of it is that he should be nearly as old as I am,--yet
somehow he is not!"

I laughed. It would have been hard not to laugh, for the mere idea
of comparing the two men, Santoris in such splendid prime and Morton
Harland in his bent, lean and wizened condition, as being of the
same or nearly the same age was quite ludicrous. Even Catherine
smiled--a weak and timorous smile.

"I suppose you have grown old more quickly, father," she said--
"Perhaps Mr. Santoris has not lived at such high pressure."

Santoris, standing by the saloon centre table tinder the full blaze
of the electric lamp, looked at her with a kindly interest.

"High or low, I live each moment of my days to the full, Miss
Harland,"--he said--"I do not drowse it or kill it--I LIVE it! This
lady,"--and he turned his eyes towards me--"looks as if she did the
same!"

"She does!" said Mr. Harland, quickly, and with emphasis--"That's
quite true! You were always a good reader of character, Santoris! I
believe I have not introduced you properly to our little friend"--
here he presented me by name and I held out my hand. Santoris took
it in his own with a light, warm clasp--gently releasing it again as
he bowed. "I call her our little friend, because she brings such an
atmosphere of joy along with her wherever she goes. We persuaded her
to come with us yachting this summer for a very selfish reason--