optimistic imagination, the illusion was almost perfect. Nan choked
suddenly at the sight of this; then her eyes widened to a baby stare, and
she become preternaturally solemn.

They looked it all over from top to bottom; the clerk fairly tiptoeing
about with the bent-backed air of one who handles a precious jade vase.
From the front windows he showed them a really magnificent view, with the
blue waters of the bay shining, and the Contra Costa shore shimmering in
the haze.

"In the residence next door to the west dwell most desirable neighbours,"
he urged, "the Morrells. They are English, or at least he is."

"I met him last night," said Keith to Nan; "he looked like a good sort."

"Who is in the big house over there?" asked Nan, indicating a very
elaborate structure diagonally opposite.

"That--oh, that--well, that is in rather a state of transition, as it
were," stammered the little clerk, and at once rattled on about something
else. This magnificent mansion, he explained, was the only one Palmer, Cook
& Co. had on their lists for the moment.

Therefore he drove them back to the Bella Union. Keith departed with him to
look up a suitable office downtown,

Nan bowed solemnly to his solemn salutation in farewell, and turned as
quickly as she could to the interior of the hotel. Sherwood sat in his
accustomed place, his big steel spectacles on his nose, his paper spread
out before him. He arose and bowed. She nodded, but did not pause. Once