stairs in the fading stream of light. She was clad in trailing white,
which gleamed against the dark oak and rustled softly as it flowed about
a tall, finely outlined and finely poised figure. She had hair of dark
brown with paler lights in its curling tendrils, gathered back from a
neck that showed a faintly warmer whiteness than the snowy fabric below
it. It was her face, though, that seized Vane's attention: the level
brows; the quiet, deep brown eyes; the straight, cleanly-cut nose; and
the subtle suggestion of steadfastness and pride which they all conveyed.
He rose with a cry that had pleasure and eagerness in it.

"Evelyn!"

She came down, moving lightly but with a rhythmic grace, and laid a firm,
cool hand in his.

"I'm glad to see you back, Wallace," she said. "How you have changed!"

"I'm not sure that's kind," smiled Vane. "In some ways, you haven't
changed at all; I would have known you anywhere!"

"Nine years is a long time to remember any one."

Vane had seen few women during that period; but he was not a fool, and he
recognized that this was no occasion for an attempt at gallantry. There
was nothing coquettish in Evelyn's words, nor was there any irony. She
had answered in the tranquil, matter-of-fact manner which, as he
remembered, usually characterized her.

"It's a little while since you landed, isn't it?" she added.