The summer dawn held the whole beautiful and silenced city in its peace.
Constance, in her dressing-gown, sat at the open window, looking out over the dewy garden, and vaguely conscious of its scents as one final touch of sweetness in a whole of pleasure which was still sending its thrill through all her pulses.
At last, she found pen and paper on her writing-table, and wrote an instruction for Annette upon it.
* * * * * "Please send early for the horses.

They should be here at a quarter to nine.

Call me at eight.

Tell Aunt Ellen that I have gone for a ride, and shall be back by eleven.

It was quite a nice ball." * * * * * Then, with a silent laugh at the last words, she took the sheet of paper, stole noiselessly out of her room, and up the stairs to Annette's room, where she pushed the message under the door.