The kitchen, lit by a single candle, could be only partly seen by her
as she stood with her hand on the lock, although she herself was plainly
visible. There was a pause, and then a quiet, self-possessed, yet
amused, voice answered:--
"My name isn't Jane, and if you're the lady of the house, I reckon yours
wasn't ALWAYS Rylands."
At the sound of the voice Mrs. Rylands threw the door wide open, and as
her eyes fell upon the speaker--her unknown guest--she recoiled with a
little cry, and a white, startled face. Yet the stranger was young and
handsome, dressed with a scrupulousness and elegance which even the
stress of travel had not deranged, and he was looking at her with
a smile of recognition, mingled with that careless audacity and
self-possession which seemed to be the characteristic of his face.
"Jack Hamlin!" she gasped.
"That's me, all the time," he responded easily, "and YOU'RE Nell
Montgomery!"
"How did you know I was here? Who told you?" she said impetuously.
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