as a glorious moonlight night, with just a hint of October frost
in the air--enough to give sparkle and tang. After a few moments I
became aware that Miss Ponsonby was also "musing" at her window in the
shadow of the acacia tree. In that dim light she looked quite pretty.
It was suddenly borne in upon me for the first time that, when Miss
Ponsonby was young, she must have been very pretty, with that delicate
elusive fashion of beauty which fades so early if the life is not kept
in it by love and tenderness. It seemed odd, somehow, to think of Miss
Ponsonby as young and pretty. She seemed so essentially middle-aged
and faded.

"Lovely night, Miss Ponsonby," I said brilliantly.

"A very beautiful night, dear Elizabeth," answered Miss Ponsonby in
that tired little voice of hers that always seemed as drab-coloured as
the rest of her.

"I'm mopy," I said frankly. "Jerry has concentrated herself on Stephen
Shaw for the evening and I'm left on the fringe of things."

Miss Ponsonby didn't say anything for a few moments. When she spoke
some strange and curious note had come into her voice, as if a chord,
long unswept and silent, had been suddenly thrilled by a passing hand.

"Did I understand you to say that Geraldine was--entertaining Stephen
Shaw?"

"Yes. He's home from the west and he's delightful," I replied. "All
the Glenboro girls are quite crazy over him. Jerry and I are as bad as
the rest. He isn't at all young but he's very fascinating."

"Stephen Shaw!" repeated Miss Ponsonby faintly. "So Stephen Shaw is
home again!"

"Why, I suppose you would know him long ago," I said, remembering that
Stephen Shaw's youth must have been contemporaneous with Miss
Ponsonby's.

"Yes, I used to know him," said Miss Ponsonby very slowly.

She did not say anything more, which I thought a little odd, for she
was generally full of mild curiosity about all strangers and
sojourners in Glenboro. Presently she got up and went away from her
window. Deserted even by Miss Ponsonby, I went grumpily to bed.

Then Mrs. George Hubbard gave a big dance. Jerry and I were pleasantly
excited. The Hubbards were the smartest of the Glenboro smart set and
their entertainments were always quite brilliant affairs for a small
country village like ours. This party was professedly given in honour
of Stephen Shaw, who was to leave for the west again in a week's time.

On the evening of the party Jerry and I went to our room to dress. And
there, acro