Somehow , it suited the letters . I did not feel quite so much the stranger as I had felt . Nevertheless , when I heard a light footfall on the stairs my heart beat painfully . I stood up and turned to the door , but I could not look up . The footsteps came nearer ; I knew that a white hand swept aside the portière at the entrance ; I knew that she had entered the room and was standing before me . With an effort I raised my eyes and looked at her . She stood , tall and gracious , in a ruby splendour of sunset falling through the window beside her . The light quivered like living radiance over a dark proud head , a white throat , and a face before whose perfect loveliness the memory of Dorothy Armstrong 's laughing prettiness faded like a star in the sunrise , nevermore in the fullness of the day to be remembered . Yet it was not of her beauty I thought as I stood spellbound before her . I seemed to see a dim little valley full of whispering pines , and a girl standing under their shadows , looking at me with the same great , greyish-blue eyes which gazed upon me now from Marian Lindsay 's face -- the same face , matured into gracious womanhood , that I had seen ten years ago ; and loved -- aye , loved -- ever since . I took an unsteady step forward . `` Marian ? '' I said . * * * * * When I got home that night I burned Dorothy Armstrong 's photograph . The next day I went to my cousin Tom , who owns the fashionable studio of Croyden and , binding him over to secrecy , sought one of Marian 's latest photographs from him . It is the only secret I have ever kept from my wife . Before we were married Marian told me something . `` I always remembered you as you looked that day under the pines , '' she said . `` I was only a child , but I think I loved you then and ever afterwards . When I dreamed my girl 's dream of love your face rose up before me .
I had the advantage XXXXX you that I knew your name -- I had heard of you .
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