She took up her racket, but he lingered.

"Please don't think me hopelessly inquisitive, Miss Fitzmaurice," he
said, "but I have really a reason for being very interested in the
original of that picture. I should like to meet your step-sister."

"You will never do so here, I am afraid," she answered. "My father and
she disagreed years ago. He does not allow us to see or hear from her. We
may not even mention her name."

"Your father," Wrayson remarked thoughtfully, "is not a stern parent by
any means."

"I should think not," she answered, smiling. "Dear old dad! I have never
heard him say an unkind word to any one in my life."

"And yet--" Wrayson began, hesitatingly.

"Do you mind if we don't talk any more about it?" she interrupted simply.
"I think you can understand that it is not a very pleasant subject. Do
you feel like another set, or would you rather do something else?"

"Tennis, by all means, if you are rested," he answered. "We will find our
old opponents and challenge them again."

Wrayson made a supreme effort, and his spirits for the rest of the
afternoon were almost boisterous. Yet all the time the nightmare was
there behind. It crept out whenever he caught sight of his host moving
about amongst his guests, beaming and kindly. His daughter! The Colonel's
daughter! What was he to do? The problem haunted him continually. All the