d roofs, over terraced green, over steep streets running
abruptly to the broken blue of the bay. She tried to fancy how Kerr
would look in this morning sun. He seemed to belong only beneath the
high artificial lights, in the thicker atmosphere of evening. Would he
return again, with renewed potency, with the same singular, almost
sinister charm, as a wizard who works his will only by moonlight? When
she should see him again, what, she wondered, would be his extraordinary
mood? On what new breathless flights might he not take her--or would he
see her at all? It was too fantastic. The sunlight thinned him to an
impalpable ghost.

It was Clara, standing at the foot of the stairs, who belonged to the
morning, so brisk, so fresh, so practical she appeared. She held a book
in her hand. The door, open for her immediate departure, showed, beyond
the descent of marble steps, the landau glistening black against white
pavements. It was unusual for this formal vehicle to put in an
appearance so early.

"I am going to drive over to the Purdies'," Clara explained. "I have an
errand there."

Flora smiled at the thought of how many persons would be having errands
to the Purdies' now. It was refreshing to catch Clara in this weakness.
She felt a throb of it herself when she recalled the breathless moment
at the supper table last evening. "Oh, that will be a heavenly drive,"
she said. "Please ask me to go with you. My errand can wait."

"Why, certainly. I should like to have you," said Clara. But if she had
returned a flat "no," Flora would not have had a dryer sense of
unwelcome. Still, she had gone too far to retreat. After all, this was
only Clara's manner, and her buoyant interest in the expedition was
stronger than her diffidence.

Mischievous reflections of the doctrine the Englishman had startled her
with the night before flickered in her mind, as they drove from the
door. Was this part of "the big red game," not being accommodating, nor
so very polite? The streets were still wet with early fog, and, turning
in at the Presidio gate, the cypresses dripped dankly on their heads,
and hung out cobwebs pearled with dew. She was sure, even under their
dripping, that the "damnable dust" was alive.

Down the broad slopes that were swept by the drive all was green to the
water's edge. The long line of barracks, the officers' quarters, the
great parade-ground, set in the flat land between hills and bay, looked
like a child's toy, pre