VIOLA’S FIRST MOVEMENT was of concealment—to toss over the scattered letters on her desk a lace shawl she had been wearing earlier in the evening. Then satisfied that should the unknown knocker prove to be someone whom she might admit—her Aunt Mary or one of the maids—satisfied that no one would, at first glance, see the letters which might mean nothing or much, Viola asked in a voice that slightly trembled:
“Who is it?”
“I did not mean to disturb you,” came the answer, and with a sense of relief Viola recognized the voice of Colonel Ashley. “But I have just returned from New York, and, seeing a light under your door, I thought I would-report, as it were.”
“Oh, thank you-thank you!” the girl exclaimed, relief evident in her voice.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” the colonel went
