lurks beyond me--it allures--and beckons--and recedes--I
almost grasp it and it is gone. Perhaps amid this peace and
loveliness, I shall be able to capture it. Miss Bryant tells me that
you write."

"Oh, I do little things for children. I haven't done much since I was
married. And--I have no designs on a great Canadian novel," laughed
Anne. "That is quite beyond me."

Owen Ford laughed too.

"I dare say it is beyond me as well. All the same I mean to have a try
at it some day, if I can ever get time. A newspaper man doesn't have
much chance for that sort of thing. I've done a good deal of short
story writing for the magazines, but I've never had the leisure that
seems to be necessary for the writing of a book. With three months of
liberty I ought to make a start, though--if I could only get the
necessary motif for it--the SOUL of the book."

An idea whisked through Anne's brain with a suddenness that made her
jump. But she did not utter it, for they had reached the Moore house.
As they entered the yard Leslie came out on the veranda from the side
door, peering through the gloom for some sign of her expected guest.
She stood just where the warm yellow light flooded her from the open
door. She wore a plain dress of cheap, cream-tinted cotton voile, with
the usual girdle of crimson. Leslie was never without her touch of
crimson. She had told Anne that she never felt satisfied without a
gleam of red somewhere about her, if it were only a flower. To Anne,
it always seemed to symbolise Leslie's glowing, pent-up personality,
denied all expression save in that flaming glint. Leslie's dress was
cut a little away at the neck and had short sleeves. Her arms gleamed
like ivory-tinted marble. Every exquisite curve of her form was
outlined in soft darkness against the light. Her hair shone in it like
flame. Beyond her was a purple sky, flowering with stars over the
harbor.

Anne heard her companion give a gasp. Even in the dusk she could see
the amazement and admiration on his face.

"Who is that beautiful creature?" he asked.

"That is Mrs. Moore," said Anne. "She is very lovely, isn't she?"

"I--I never saw anything like her," he answered, rather dazedly. "I
wasn't prepared--I didn't expect--good heavens, one DOESN'T expect a
goddess for a landlady! Why, if she were clothed in a gown of
sea-purple, with a rope of amethysts in her hair, she would be a
veritable sea-queen. And she takes in boarders!"