"It is a map," he said; "one that Jack drew day before yesterday when
he was trying to make me understand the situation up here. I wonder
why he kept it? Is there anything on the other side?"

She turned the leaf, and they both went speechless for the moment. The
reverse of the scrap of cross-ruled paper held a very fair likeness of
a face which Virginia's mirror had oftenest portrayed: a sketch
setting forth in a few vigorous strokes of the pencil the
impressionist's ideal of the "goddess fresh from the bath."

"By Jove!" exclaimed Adams, when he could find the word for his
surprise. Then he tried to turn it off lightly. "There is a good bit
more of the artist in Jack than I have been giving him credit for.
Don't you know, he must have got the notion for that between two
half-seconds--when you recognized me on the platform at Kansas City.
It's wonderful!"

"So very wonderful that I think I shall keep it," she rejoined, not
without a touch of austerity. Then she added: "Mr. Winton will
probably never miss it. If he does, you will have to explain the best
way you can." And Adams could only say "By Jove!" again, and busy
himself with pouring the tea which Ah Foo had brought in.

In the nature of things the tea-drinking in the stuffy "dinkey"
drawing-room was not prolonged. Time was flying. Virginia's errand of
mercy was not yet accomplished, and Aunt Martha in her character of
anxious chaperon was not to be forgotten. Also, Miss Carteret had a
feeling that under his well-bred exterior Mr. Morton P. Adams was
chafing like any barbarian industry captain at this unwarrantable
intrusion and interruption.