The shadows in the lonely sitting room deepened.

There came a knock at the dining-room door.
Keziah sprang from her chair, smoothed her hair, hastily wiped her eyes, picked up the dropped letter and went to admit the visitor, whoever he or she might be.

She was glad of the shadows, they prevented her face from being seen too plainly.
"Good afternoon," she said, opening the door.

"Oh! it's you, is it ?" "Yes," admitted Abishai Pepper, standing on the stone step, and shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.

"Yes, Keziah, it's--it's me, thank you." "Don't mention it.