“Is this your home, too?” King managed to ask.  His brain was whirling with the shock of this astonishing revelation.  He wanted to get off by himself and think about it.

“Oh, no, indeed, no such luck.  We live across the lake in a much less beautiful place, only of course we’re here a great deal when Anne’s home.  My mother would be a mother to Anne if Anne would let her, but she’s the most independent creature—­prefers to live here with just Timmy and old Campbell, the butler who’s been with the family since time began.  Timmy’s more than a housekeeper, of course.  Anne’s made almost a real chaperon out of her, and she is very dignified and nice.”

King would have had the entire family history, he was sure, if a diversion had not occurred in the nature of a general move to show the guests to their rooms, with the appearance of servants, and the removal of luggage.  In his room presently, therefore, King had a chance to get his thoughts together.  One thing was becoming momentarily clear to him:  his being here was with Anne’s permission—­and she was willing to see him; she had kept her promise.  As for all the rest, he didn’t care much.  And when he thought of the moment during which his mother had looked so kindly into Anne’s eyes, not recognizing her, he laughed aloud.  Let Mrs. King retreat from that position now if she wanted to.  As for himself, he was not at all sure that he cared a straw to have it thus so clearly proved that Anne was what she had seemed to be.  Had he not known it all along?  His heart sang with the thought that he had been ready to marry her, no matter what her position in the world.

And now he wondered how many hours it would be before he should have his chance to see her alone, if for but five minutes.  Well, at least he could look at her.  And that, as he descended the stairs with the others, he found well worth doing.  Anne and Gardner Coolidge were meeting them at the foot, and the young hostess had changed her white outing garb for a most enchanting other white, which showed her round arms through soft net and lace and made her yet a new type of girl in King’s thought of her.

She had a perfectly straightforward way of meeting his eyes, though her own were bewildering even so, without any coquetry in her use of them.  She was not blushing and shy, she was self-possessed and radiant.  King could understand, as he looked at her now, how she had felt over that affair of the tragedy suddenly precipitated into her life, and what strength of character it must have taken to send her out from this secluded and perfect home into a rough world, that she might find out for herself “how such things could happen.”  And as he watched her, playing hostess in this home of hers, looking after everybody’s comfort with that ease and charm which proclaims a lifetime of previous training and custom, his heart grew fuller and fuller of pride and love and longing.