for your prison----"

"With Anthony--yes."

"You'd better go down and dress, dear. Put on that pale blue, with your
pearls, Diana. It fits in with the moonlight."

"Then you won't come down?"

"No. I'll have Peter for company."

Peter Pan was Diana's cat. He was as yellow as a harvest moon, he was
fed on fish, and was of a prodigious fatness. During Diana's sojourn
abroad he had been looked after by Delia Hobbs.

Delia was Diana's housekeeper. She had a lame hip and a lovely mind. She
went up to Mrs. Martens' room after Diana had left to see if the little
lady was comfortable for the night.

She eyed Peter Pan, who was in the middle of the big bed.

"Peter," she said, severely, "that's no place for you."

Peter rolled over, and clawed the lace spread luxuriously.

"Shall I take him off, ma'am?" Delia asked.

"It's nice to have him here," said Mrs. Martens, doubtfully, "but
perhaps I ought not to let him stay. You know best, Delia."

Delia, a little flattered by such deference, hesitated. "I might bring
his basket up here," she said; "he isn't a bit of trouble. He just goes
to sleep and doesn't wake up until morning."

As Delia opened the door to go down, the rippling measures of "The
Spring Song," played softly, came up to them. Sophie had a vision of
Diana in her shimmering gown, waiting in the moonlight for Anthony.

Delia came back with the basket. It was of brown wicker with brown
cushions. Peter, curled up in it, made a sunflower combination.

"You are sure you're all right, Miss Sophie?" Delia asked as she stood
on the threshold. "If you don't want the electric light, there's a
candle on your table, and if you like the air straight from the sea you
can open the door on the porch. Miss Diana used to like to lie and look
at the moonlight."

The whole world seemed obsessed by the moonlight. Its white radiance,
when Mrs. Martens at last turned off the glaring bulbs, seemed to cast a
spell over sea and land. She stepped out on the porch, and was awed by
the beauty of the wide sweep of shining sky and sea. Then, far below on
the hidden road, she heard the beat of a motor.

The sound ceased and a man's quick step came up the path. There was the
whirr of an electric bell, and she knew that Anthony had come.

Well, Diana had her Anthony--and she had--Peter! She laughed a little to
stifle a sigh. Diana had the substance--she her shadowy memories.

A faint breeze had sprung up. The yachts tugged at the