m surprised at myself. Will
that do?"

"This time--yes. But--" with a deprecatory shake of the golden head.
"Well, let's make a move."

"This is no end of a jolly spot whereon to laze away a restful morning,"
declared Elvesdon, as snugly disposed in a cane-chair he puffed out
contented clouds of smoke.

"Isn't it?" said Thornhill, who was similarly employed. "And it's
always cool here, however broiling it may be outside, unless of course
there's the hot wind on. That always rakes everything."

Overhead the boughs of the tall fig-trees, with their wealth of broad
leaves, made a most effective canopy. Behind was a high pomegranate
hedge, in front young willows fringing a small runnel fed by the dam
lower down, where bevies of finks fluttered in and out of their
pendulous nests, making the air lively with their cheerful twitter.
Glimpsed through an opening here and there the warm sun-rays shot down
in golden kiss upon drooping loads of peaches and pears hanging from the
fruit trees beyond.

"What's the latest, Mr Elvesdon? Is there any fresh development in
this unrest movement?"

It was Edala who spoke. Elvesdon had been contemplating her with a
furtive but admiring satisfaction, as she sat there in her low chair,
the gold aureole of her head resting back against her clasped hands.
There was something in her every movement--her every pose--that
fascinated him; yet not an atom of self-consciousness or posing was
there about her. And her very attire. The well-fitting blouse of light
blue, set off the blue of her eyes, the gold of her hair; the cool white
skirt, from which peeped one white shoe--all, he decided, was perfect.
At the question he half started.

"The latest?" he echoed. "Well, Miss Thornhill, I don't think there is
any `latest.' Things are much the same as ever, and likely to remain
so."

Her eyes were full upon his face, which they seemed to be reading like
an open page. She shook her head slightly.

"Ah--you are not going to tell me. You won't say anything before me
because I'm a girl. That's what you're thinking. Now--isn't it?"

Elvesdon, whom we believe we have shown was as far from being a fool as
the small minority of people, felt a little disconcerted, and only hoped
he was not showing it. As a matter of fact that was exactly what he had
been thinking. All his official instincts were dead against discussing
official matters in the presence of the other sex; and the question s