girl whom he was about to question would directly face the full
light. Morgan's guess was correct. The girl went directly to the
chair she had left to answer his ring, and taking up her embroidery,
picked nervously at its edges, meanwhile watching Morgan
expectantly.

Surmising that a direct attempt to question her at once might defeat
his purpose, Morgan immediately broke into an account of the
previous night's occurrence. As he brought out the various details
of what was reported to have taken place, he slyly watched her face.
At the end of his recital, he felt convinced that what he told the
girl had previously been unknown to her. Moreover, Morgan became
sensible of a growing feeling of interest and confidence in the
girl. Her sweetness seemed so genuine, her dark blue eyes so frank
and honest in the straightforward way they met his.

"It seems very strange that I heard none of the excitement,"
remarked the girl, when Morgan had finished his story. "I had a
rather busy day yesterday with my studies and retired early."

Morgan had decided upon his line of questioning while relating the
incidents of the night before.

"May I ask your name?"

"Certainly," she replied. "My name is Atwood."

Morgan, having noticed the absence of a wedding ring, assumed that
she was unmarried. Therefore, he said, "Is your mother at home, Miss
Atwood?"