It was one of those perfect summer mornings when the sun's rays, though streaming from a cloudless sky, are tempered by a gentle haze in the upper regions of the air, when the zenith has a tinge of violet and on the horizon broods a reddish mist.
From this part of the garden only a glimpse of the house was visible; an upper window with white curtains, cool, peaceful.

All else on every side was verdure and bloom.
'Is it possible,' Beatrice asked, when there had been silence for a few moments, 'that I can have met Miss Hood anywhere before to-day?
Her face is strangely familiar to me.' 'She has never been in London before she came to us,' said Mrs.Rossall.
'But you have relatives in Dunfield, I think ?' remarked Wilfrid.
'To be sure,' said his aunt; 'she comes from Dunfield, in Yorkshire.

Do you think you can have met her there ?' 'Ah, that explains it,' Beatrice cried eagerly.

'I knew I had seen her, and I know now where it was.

She gave lessons to my uncle's children.