During the dark time of her early widowhood it was to Austin's delicate
tact and loyalty that she owed her first weak grasp on life. It was he
that had brought her to a sense of outer things, to a realisation that
in spite of her own grey sky there was still a glory on the earth. He
was her trusted friend, ally, and adviser, who never failed her, and she
contemplated him always with a heart full of somewhat exaggerated
gratitude--which is as far on the road to love as it is given to many
women to travel.

She had barely reached the top of the hall stairs--on her way to spend
her reading hour with Mrs. Ware, when she saw Dick come out of the
dining-room with convulsed and angry face, the veins standing out on his
thick bull's neck. She felt frightened. Something foolish and desperate
would happen before long. She resolved to give Austin a warning word.
With an excuse to Mrs. Ware she went down again to the dining-room, and
found Austin in the cosiest and sunniest frame of mind imaginable.
Obviously there had been no serious quarrel between the brothers.

"Can I have a few minutes with you, Austin?"

"A thousand," he said gaily. "What has gone wrong?"

"It is nothing to do with me," she said.

He looked amusedly into her eyes. "I know. It's about Viviette.
Confess."

"Yes," she replied soberly, "it's about Viviette."

"You've seen it. I make no bones about it. You can believe the very