Now kiss me and tell me you're much obliged--for I hear Austin's voice on the stairs." He held her at arms' length, gazing at her, half amused, half indignant; then, unbidden, a second flash of the old telepathy passed between them--a pale glimmer lighted his own dark heart in sympathy; and for a moment he seemed to have a brief glimpse of the truth; and the truth was not as he had imagined it.

But it was a glimpse only--a fleeting suspicion of his own fallibility; then it vanished into the old, dull, aching, obstinate humiliation.

For truth would not be truth if it were so easily discovered.
"Well, we've buried it now," breathed Selwyn.

"You're all right, Nina--from your own standpoint--and I'm not going to make a stalking nuisance of myself; no fear, little sister.

Hello!"-- turning swiftly--"here's that preposterous husband of yours." They exchanged a firm hand clasp; Austin Gerard, big, smooth shaven, humorously inclined toward the ruddy heaviness of successful middle age; Selwyn, lean, bronzed, erect, and direct in all the powerful symmetry and perfect health of a man within sight of maturity.
"Hail to the chief--et cetera," said Austin, in his large, bantering voice.