They were, so to speak, well matched.  She, of course, was the better looking of the two, a really pretty and attractive young woman indeed, but the vivacity of Anscombe’s face, the twinkle of his merry blue eyes and its general refinement made up for what he lacked—­regularity of feature.  I think he had just told her one of his good stories which he always managed to make so humorous by a trick of pleasing and harmless exaggeration, and they were both laughing merrily.  Then she caught sight of the doctor and her merriment evaporated like a drop of water on a hot shovel.  Distinctly I saw her pull herself together and prepare for something.

“How do you do?” she said rapidly, rising and holding out her slim sun-browned hand.  “But I need not ask, you look so well.”

“How do you do, my dear,” with a heavy emphasis on the “dear” he answered slowly.  “But I needn’t ask, for I see that you are in perfect health and spirits,” and he bent forward as though to kiss her.

Somehow or other she avoided that endearment or seal of possession.  I don’t quite know how, as I turned my head away, not wishing to witness what I felt to be unpleasant.  When I looked up again, however, I saw that she had avoided it, the scowl on his face the demureness of hers and Anscombe’s evident amusement assured me of this.  She was asking about her father; he answered that he also seemed quite well.

“Then why did you write to tell me that I ought to come as he was not at all well?” she inquired, with a lifting of her delicate eyebrows.

The question was never answered, for at that moment Marnham himself appeared.

“Oh! father,” she said, and rushed into his arms, while he kissed her tenderly on both cheeks.

So I was not mistaken, thought I to myself, she does really love this moral wreck, and what is more, he loves her, which shows that there must be good in him.  Is anyone truly bad, I wondered, or for the matter of that, truly good either?  Is it not all a question of circumstance and blood?

Neither then or at any other time have I found an answer to the problem.  At any rate to me there seemed something beautiful about the meeting of these two.

The influence of Miss Heda in the house was felt at once.  The boys became smarter and put on clean clothes.  Vases of flowers appeared in the various rooms; ours was turned out and cleaned, a disagreeable process so far as we were concerned.  Moreover, at dinner both Marnham and Rodd wore dress clothes with short jackets, a circumstance that put Anscombe and myself to shame since we had none.  It was curious to see how with those dress clothes, which doubtless awoke old associations within him, Marnham changed his colour like a chameleon.  Really he might have been the colonel of a cavalry regiment rising to toast the Queen after he had sent round the wine, so polite and polished was his talk.  Who could have identified the man with the dry old