d between the blue sea and the tree-covered
heights of Kabatash; the park of the Russian Palace, the summer home
of Russia's representative at the Sublime Porte, gardens of many rich
merchants of Constantinople and of Turkish, Greek and Armenian magnates,
and the fertile and well-watered country extending to Therapia, Stania
and Bebek on the one hand, and to Rumili Kavak, with the great Belgrad
forest behind it, and to Rumili Fanar, where the Bosporus flows into the
Black Sea, on the other.

"Come up here whenever you like," Mrs. Clarke said to Dion. "You can
ring at the side gate of the garden, and come up without entering the
house or letting me know you are here. I have my own sitting-room on the
first floor of the villa next to my bedroom, the little blue-and-green
room I showed you just now. The books I'm reading at present are there.
No one will bother you, and you won't bother any one."

He thanked her, not very warmly, perhaps, but with a genuine attempt
at real gratitude, and said he would come. They walked up and down the
terrace for a little while, in silence for the most part. Before they
went down he mentioned that he had been out rowing.

"I ride for exercise," said Mrs. Clarke. "You can easily hire a good
horse here, but I have one of my own, Selim. Nearly every afternoon I
ride."

"Were you riding the day before yesterday?" Dion asked.

"Yes, in the Kesstane Dereh, or Valley of Roses, as many people call
it."

"Were you alone?"

"Yes."

Dion had thought of the cantering horse which he had heard in the lane
as he sat beside the stream. He felt sure it was Selim he had heard.
Mrs. Clarke did not ask the reason for his questions. She seemed to him
a totally incurious woman. Presently they descended to the house, and
he wished her good-by. She did not ask him to stay any longer, did not
propose any expedition, or any day or hour for another meeting. She just
let him go with a grave, and almost abstracted good-by.

When he was alone he realized something; she had assumed that he was
going to make a long stay in Buyukderer. Once, in speaking of the
foliage, she had said, "You will notice in September----" Why was she
so certain he would stay on? There was nothing to prevent him from going
away by the steamer on the morrow. She did nothing to curb his freedom;
she seemed almost indifferent to the fact of his presence there; yet
she had told him he would come, and was evidently certain that he would