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 lap, looked up at the doorway to see a tall, black-haired man in black. Dark eyes—brown, they were, actually, though under his black brows she could not see the color—gazed at her. A thin, but strong looking hand, dark from the black hair upon the back of it, grasped the side of the door-way in which he stood.

David arose; his sister Deborah arose; David's mother, who had sat on the sofa, also arose; the child in Fidelia's lap, whom Fidelia was feeding chocolates, freed herself from Fidelia's arms; but Fidelia did not get up.

She felt, with a sudden drop from her joy in giving her gifts, that it was no use for her to try to please this man. She thought of the forty dollars she had planned to spend for a gift for him and thought: "Suppose I'd done it!"

His eyes examined the extravagant basket beside her; he noticed the flowers and the gaudy parasol. They did not surprise him; they seemed to be what he expected, after seeing her. He gazed at David.

"Father!" said David. "Father—"

"I was at Mr. White's when I heard you had come home, David," he said. "I returned at once."

"Yes, father," said David.

His father took his hand from the doorway and came a few steps closer to Fidelia. "You must be my son's wife," he said slowly. "You must be—Fidelia."

"I'm Fidelia," she said, frightened. Seldom indeed did she feel frightened; she did not know at exactly what she was frightened now but she was.

"I'm glad you have come to visit us. I want you to take your place in my family."