In Which Porter Plants an Evil Seed Which Grows and Flourishes; and in Which Ghosts Rise and Confront Mary

As has been said, Porter Bigelow was not a snob, and he was a
gentleman. But even a gentleman can, when swayed by primal emotions,
convince himself that high motives rule, even while performing acts of
doubtful honor.

It was thus that Porter proved to himself that his interest in Roger
Poole's past was purely that of the protector and friend of Mary
Ballard. Mary must not throw herself away. Mary must be guarded
against the tragedy of marriage with a man who was not worthy. And who
could do this better than he?

In pursuance of his policy of protection he took his way one afternoon
in July to Colin's studio.

"I'm staying in town," Colin told him, "because of Miss Jeliffe. Her
father is held by the long Session. I'm painting another picture of
her, and fixing up these rooms in the interim--how do you like them?"

In his furnishing, Colin had broken away from conventional tradition.
Here were no rugs hung from balconies, no rich stuffs and suits of
armor. It was simply a cool little place, with a big window
overlooking one of the parks. Its walls were tinted gray, and there
were a few comfortable rattan chairs, with white linen cushions. A
portrait of Delilah dominated the room. He had painted her in the
costume which she had worn at the garden party--in all the glory of
cool greens and faint pink, and heavenly blue.