which is well, inasmuch as the hatred of some men may be the highest
praise--the highest favor--that they have to bestow.

A child came to them, at length--to him and to the daughter of Jimmy
Blair; and that child was as like to the daughter of Jimmy Blair as the
daughter had been like her mother.

A part of the time they lived in the city; but most of their days were
spent out at the Larchmont place, on the Sound, that John Stuyvesant
Schuyler had built so long ago. And there they were very, very happy.

The quiet, peaceful beauty of "Grey Rocks" more than ever appealed to the
soul of Tom Blake as he stood upon the bridge of his yacht, "The
Vagrant," and watched the ever-enlarging lawn apparently rush toward him.
He closed his eyes, a little. The sun was very bright.... He turned
toward the Long Island shore, hazy and unreal in the mists of the
morning.... When he turned back again, the huge, sea-going craft, a thing
of glistening white and shining brass, was making a wide, graceful sweep
in the churning water, and the house had ceased to rush down upon him. It
now stood inviting, beckoning, as close at hand as it were safe to be.

A launch was lowered, and the owner's gangway dropped. And in another
moment, Blake stood, balancing himself nicely against the rolling of the
little craft, as it rushed through the blue-gray water toward the landing
pier at the foot of the velvet lawn.

Like one who, in haste, yet longs to loiter Blake made his way across the
sward to where, jutting out from a corner of the house, a tiny bay window
thrust itself forth among a confusion of tangled nasturtiums, copper-
colored, yellow, crimson son. With the privileged assurance of one long