had taken very kindly to Theod--to Mr. Brower, after all; much more so
than Rosy, whose sauciness (she could think of no other word) Jane found
herself unable to forgive.

Theodore Brower was some ten years older than Truesdale. His hair was
beginning to retreat before his advancing forehead, and about his eyes
were coming to appear those lines proper to the man who is in business
for himself and pretty largely absorbed in it. He had a pair of shrewd
but kindly brown eyes and a straightforward and serious manner. He held
his hand more or less on the pulsing actualities of the town, and at one
time or another he took Truesdale to most of his clubs--the Crepuscular,
the Consolation, the Simplicity, the Universe. At most of these they
dined moderately and discussed immoderately, except at the Simplicity,
whose avowed object was to free Man from the tyranny of Things. There
they discussed and did not dine at all.

Brower called at the Marshall house at discreet intervals; now and then,
provided there was a plausible pretext for business, the interval was
shortened. He looked after all of old Mr. Marshall's insurance interests,
and the alterations in the business premises of Marshall & Belden seemed
to furnish him with such a pretext. The various policies required various
permits from various companies, and numerous changes to correspond with
the changes in the building itself. True, Brower might have sent one of
his young men to the store; but he preferred to come himself to the
house.

His presence there, under this ruse, was attended by various phenomena.
It was then that Jane would pant over the banister and palpitate in
doorways, and start and hesitate and advance and retreat, and presently
go gliding along the hall, and finally look in through the open door to