month. But I've never had her a moment alone; the aunt is always
present. We are like old friends--with a difference."

"I see; the aunt makes the difference! No flirting allowed on the
premises."

"Miss Denham is not a girl to flirt with; she is very self-possessed,
with just a suspicion of haughtiness; personally, tall, slight, a sort
of dusky Eastern beauty, with the clear warm colors of a New England
September twilight--not like the brunettes on this side, who are apt to
have thick complexions, saving their presence. I say she is not a girl
to flirt with, and yet, with that sensitive-cut mouth and those deep
eyes, she could do awful things in the way of tenderness if she had a
mind to. She's a puzzle, with her dove's innocence and her serpent's
wisdom. All women are problems. I suppose every married man of us goes
down to his grave with his particular problem not quite solved."

Flemming gave a loud laugh. The "every married man of us" tickled him.
"Yes," said he; "they are all daughters of the Sphinx, and past finding
out. Is Miss Denham an invalid?" he asked, after a pause.

"No; she is not strong--delicate, rather; of the pure type of American
young-womanhood--more spirit than physique; but not an invalid--unless"-
-

"You have let a morbid fancy run away with you, Ned. This lady and the
other one are two different persons."

"If I could only believe it!" said Lynde. "I do believe it at times;
then some gesture, some fleeting expression, a turn of the head, the