tives, was not at all as they liked to see her. She troubled Mr. Bolliver exceedingly, for at first he could not really believe what he was observing.
It was just after luncheon—Mr. Bolliver was spending the week-end at Ingram Mansion—and he and Jane were alone in the garden. His mind was at last made up, definitely. He fingered his seal watch-fob—the one with the flying-fish on it—and looked at her several times. Then he said suddenly, in a much gruffer voice than he had intended:
"Jane, you didn't eat any lunch."
Jane started, and looked at him, and almost at once looked away again.
"I wasn't hungry."
"But you ate almost no breakfast."
"I wasn't hungry then, either."
"Why not?"
Jane pulled a leaf sharply from a bonding shrub beside them and picked it into shreds.
"I suppose I'm too much bothered," she admitted.
"Come here," he said.
She came, and he put one hand on her shoulder and with the other turned her face up
