He met her mischievous eyes with a baffled look. He longed to shake her. His hand lifted mechanically to his mustache and dropped again. He had lost faith in that, too.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE SON
When Philip returned to dinner that day he found a strange man sitting on the veranda with Kathleen. The table beside her was filled with loose sheets of paper, and she was reading aloud.
As Phil approached she looked up.
"We spoke of an angel last night," she said, "and lo, he appeared to-day. This is Mr. Tremaine, and he knows you already."
Phil laid down his impedimenta and his hat, and shook hands.
The grey-eyed portly stranger smiled as they greeted. "Miss Fabian has told me so much about you," he said, "that I am wondering if you belong to the Sidneys who took me in in the mountains of Montana one night five or six years ago."