There was another thing which it was impossible not to note:  Never had Roberta seen this young man in circumstances so calculated to impress upon her the potency of his personality.  Unconscious of the scrutiny of any other human being, wholly absorbed in the task of making a small boy happy, he was naturally showing her himself precisely as he was.  In place of his usual careful manners when in her presence was entire freedom from restraint and therefore an effect uncoloured by conventional environment.  The tones of his voice, the frank smile upon his lips, the touch of his hand upon the little lad’s—­all these combined to set him before Roberta in a light so different from any she had seen him in before that she must needs admit she had been far from knowing him.

She stole away at length, feeling suddenly that she had seen enough, and that her defences against the siege being made upon her heart and judgment were weakening perilously.  If she were to hold out before it she must hear of no more affairs to Richard Kendrick’s credit, especially such affairs as these.  Not all his efforts at establishing a successful career in the world of achievement could touch her imagination as did the knowledge of his brotherly kindness toward the unfortunate.  That was what meant most to Roberta, in a world which she had early discovered to be a hard place for the greater part of its inhabitants.  Forgetfulness of self, devotion to the need of others—­these were the qualities she most strove to cultivate in herself, and most rejoiced at seeing developed in those for whom she cared.

Unluckily for his cause, if there had been a possible chance for its success, Forbes Westcott chose the evening of this same day to come again to Roberta Gray with his question burning on his lips.  He arrived at a moment when, to his temporary satisfaction, Roberta was said to be playing a set of singles in the court with Ruth by the light of a fast-fading afterglow; and he took his way thither without delay.  It was a simple matter, of course, to a man of his resource, to dispose of the young sister, in spite of the elder’s attempt to foil him at his own game.  So presently he had Roberta to himself, with every advantage of time and place and summer beauty all about.

Louis Gray, looking down the lawn from the rear porch, upon whose steps he sat with Rosamond and Stephen, descried the tall figure strolling by their sister’s side along a stretch of closely shaven turf between rows of slim young birches.

“Forbes is persistent, eh?” he observed.  “Think he has a fighting chance?”

“Oh, I hope not!” cried Rosamond impulsively.

Stephen’s grave eyes followed the others, to dwell upon the distant pair.  “Forbes stands to win a big place among men,” was his comment.

“Oh, really big?” Rosamond’s tender eyes came to meet her husband’s.  “Stephen, do you think he is quite—­scrupulous?—­wholly honourable?”