ION IN THE PATH

With the decline of day came enough of a chill to spin a delicate
cobweb of mist across the country and cover forests and hills with a
bluish bloom.

The sunset had become a splashy crimson affair, perhaps a bit too
theatrical. In the red blaze Thessalie and Westmore came wandering
down from the three pines on the hill, and found Barres on the lawn
scowling at the celestial conflagration in the west, and Dulcie seated
near on the fountain rim, silent, distrait, watching the scarlet
ripples spreading from the plashing central jet.

"You can't paint a thing like that, Garry," remarked Westmore. Barres
looked around:

"I don't want to. Where have you been, Thessa?"

"Under those pines over there. We supposed you'd see us and come up."

Barres glanced at her with an inscrutable expression; Dulcie's grey
eyes rested on Barres. Thessalie walked over to the reddened pool.

"It's like a prophecy of blood, that water," she said. "And over there
the world is in flames."

"The Western World," added Westmore, "I hope it's an omen that we
shall soon catch fire. How long are you going to wait, Garry?"

Barres started to answer, but checked himself, and glanced across at
Dulcie without knowing exactly why.

"I don't know," he said irresolutely. "I'm fed up now.... But----" he
continued to look vaguely at Dulcie, as though something of his
uncertainty remotely concerned her.

"I'm ready to go over when you are," remarked Westmore, placidly
smiling at Thessalie, who immediately presented her pretty profile to
him and settled down on the fountain rim beside Dulcie.

"Darling," she said, "it's about time to dress. Are you going to wear
that enchanting white affair we discovered at Mandel's?"

Barres senior came sauntering out of the woods and through the wall
gate, switching a limber rod reflectively. He obligingly opened his
creel and displayed half a dozen long, slim trout.

"They all took that midge fly I described to you this afternoon," he
said, with the virtuous satisfaction of all prophets.

Everybody inspected the crimson-flecked fish while Barres senior stood
twirling his monocle.

"Are we dining at home?" inquired his son.

"I believe so. There is a guest of honour, if I recollect--some fellow
they're lionising--I don't remember.... And one or two others--the
Gerhardts, I believe."

"Then we'd better dress, I think," said Thessalie, encircling Dulcie's
waist.

"Sorry," said Barres seni