onally the need of getting out of Klingsor's
garden, of dropping down somewhere for a time near a quiet nature, a
cool head, a strong hand. The hours he had spent in the garden lodge
were hours of such concentrated study as, in his fevered life, he seldom
got in anywhere. She had, as he told Noble, a fine appreciation of the
seriousness of work.

One evening two weeks after d'Esquerre had sailed, Caroline was in the
library giving her husband an account of the work she had laid out for
the gardeners. She superintended the care of the grounds herself. Her
garden, indeed, had become quite a part of her; a sort of beautiful
adjunct, like gowns or jewels. It was a famous spot, and Noble was very
proud of it.

"What do you think, Caroline, of having the garden lodge torn down and
putting a new summer house there at the end of the arbor; a big rustic
affair where you could have tea served in midsummer?" he asked.

"The lodge?" repeated Caroline looking at him quickly. "Why, that seems
almost a shame, doesn't it, after d'Esquerre has used it?"

Noble put down his book with a smile of amusement.

"Are you going to be sentimental about it? Why, I'd sacrifice the whole
place to see that come to pass. But I don't believe you could do it for
an hour together."

"I don't believe so, either," said his wife, smiling.

Noble took up his book again and Caroline went into the music room to
practice. She was not ready to have the lodge torn down. She had gone
there for a quiet hour every day during the two weeks since d'Esquerre
had left them. It was the sheerest sentiment she had ever permitted
herself. She was ashamed of it, but she was childishly unwilling to let
it go.

Caroline went to bed soon after her husband, but she was not able to
sleep. The night was close and warm, presaging storm. The wind had
fallen, and the water slept, fixed and motionless as the sand. She rose
and thrust her feet into slippers and, putting a dressing gown over
her shoulders, opened the door of her husband's room; he was sleeping
soundly. She went into the hall and down the stairs; then, leaving the
house through a side door, stepped into the vine-covered arbor that led
to the garden lodge. The scent of the June roses was heavy in the still
air, and the stones that paved the path felt pleasantly cool through the
thin soles of her slippers. Heat-lightning flashed continuously from the
bank of clouds that had gathered over the sea, but the shore wa