CHAPTER I. “A silly little priestess who knew nothing of life at all until she came to you. "How very like it is!" "Not so strange, surely," laughed Thames, "that a picture should resemble the person for whom it's intended. Please tell me what your terms are. “Dear friend,” she said, “do not magnify me into a physiological problem. Me, you may have. Then we can loiter and gossip to our heart’s content. Later, she would sew it on. But was it Faith? That is what she was this day going to find out. “I expected to stay with a relation, but I found that their arrangements did not allow of it. “Do you mean, aunt,” she asked, “that my father thought I had gone off—with some man?” “What else COULD he think? Would any one DREAM you would be so mad as to go off alone?” “After—after what had happened the night before?” “Oh, why raise up old scores? If you could see him this morning, his poor face as white as a sheet and all cut about with shaving! He was for coming up by the very first train and looking for you, but I said to him, ‘Wait for the letters,’ and there, sure enough, was yours.
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