things? Is it because some under layer of her soul knows it will be the
last and will have it a thorough test? I wonder how much of an arrant
fraud a woman may really be to herself, even in her surest, happiest
moments."

"There you are again, wondering, wondering--instead of accepting things
and dressing for dinner. Have you seen Allan?"

"Oh, yes--I've been seeing him for three days--through a glass, darkly."

Aunt Bell flounced on into the library, trailing something perilously
near a sniff.

Bernal came down the stairs and stood in the door.

"Well, Nance!" He went to stand before her and she looked up to him.
There was still light enough to see his eyes--enough to see, also, that
he was embarrassed.

"Well--I've had quite a talk with Allan." He laughed a little
constrained, uneasy laugh, looking quickly at her to see if she might be
observing him. "He's the same fine old chap, isn't he?" Quickly his eyes
again sought her face. "Yes, indeed, he's the same old boy--a great old
Allan--only he makes me feel that I have changed, Nance."

She arose from her chair, feeling cramped and restless from sitting so
long.

"I'm sure you haven't changed, Bernal."