turned away from it.

When, an hour later, Allan came in, he found them chatting easily of the
few people of St. Antipas that Bernal had met. At the moment, they were
discussing Mrs. Wyeth, whose face, Bernal declared, was of a rare
perfection. Nance turned to her husband.

"You must thank Bernal," she said, "for entertaining your guests this
afternoon."

"He wouldn't if he knew what I said--or how it must have bored them. One
thing, Nance, they won't meet here again until you swear I've gone!"

"Bernal's heart is right, even if his theology doesn't always please
me," said his brother graciously, examining some cards that lay on the
table. "I see Mrs. Wyeth has called," he continued to Nancy, looking up
from these.

"Yes. She wanted me to see her sister, poor Mrs. Eversley, who is ill at
her house. I promised to look in to-morrow."

"I've just been telling Nance how beautiful I think Mrs. Wyeth is," said
Bernal. "She's rare, with that face of the low-browed Greek. It's one of
the memories I shall take back to my Eve-less Eden."

"She _is_ beautiful," said Nancy. "Of course her nose is the least bit
thin and long, but it rather adds zest to her face. Now I must dress for
dinner."

When Nancy had gone, Bernal, who had been speaking with a marked