"

"They say that the women there are ambitious to govern the country and
are even resolved to choose their own husbands."

"Something of that sort," he muttered uneasily.

"That is a very strange condition of affairs," she murmured, brooding
eyes remote.

"It's a darned sight worse than strange!" he blurted out--then asked
pardon for his inelegant vehemence; but she only smiled dreamily and
sipped her currant wine in the sunshine.

"Shall we talk of something pleasanter?" he said, still uneasy,
"--er--about those jolly old colonial days. . . . That's rather an odd
gown you wear--er--pretty you know--but--_is_ it not in the style
of--er--those days of--of yore--and all that?"

"It was made then."

"A genuine antique!" he exclaimed. "I suppose you found it in the garret.
There must be a lot of interesting things up there behind those flat
loop-holes."

"Chests full," she nodded. "We save everything."

He said: "You look wonderfully charming in the costume of those days. It
suits you so perfectly that--as a matter of fact, I didn't even notice
your dress when I first saw you--but it's a _wonder_!"

"Men seldom notice women's clothes, do they?"

"That is true. Still, it's curious I didn't notice such a gown as that."

"Is it _very_ gay and fine?" she asked, colouring deliciously. "I love
these clothes."

"They are the garments of perfection--robing it!"

"Oh, what a gallant thing to say to me. . . . Do you truly find me so--so
agreeable?"

"Agreeable! You--I don't think I'd better say it----"

"Oh, I beg you!"

"May I?"

[Illustration: "'Pray, observe my unmatched eyes.'"]

Her cheeks and lips were brilliant, her eyes sparkling; she leaned a
trifle toward him, frail glass in hand.

"May not a pretty woman listen without offense if a gallant man praises
her beauty?"

"You _are_ exactly that--a beauty!" he said excitedly. "The most
bewitching, exquisite, matchless----"

"Oh, I beg of you, be moderate," she laughed--and picked up a fan from
somewhere and spread it, laughing at him over its painted edge.

"Pray, observe my unmatched eyes before you speak again of me as
matchless."

"Your eyes _are_ matchlessly beautiful!--more wonderfully beautiful than
any others in all the world!" he cried.

Yet the currant wine was very, very mild.

"Such eyes," he continued excitedly, "are the most strangely lovely eyes
I ever saw or ever shall see. Nobody in all the world, except you, has
such eyes. I--