He would pretend he had sought solitude and would be duly surprised and pleased to encounter his hostess.

That he had no business in her private garden at all without her invitation did not trouble him, things like that never blocked his way; he had always been too welcome anywhere for such an aspect even to have presented itself to him.
He played his part to perfection--reconnoitering as stealthily as when he was stalking big game, until he perceived his quarry at the far end among the lavender, giving orders to a gardener.

He then turned in the opposite direction, with great unconsciousness, to read the paper in peace apparently being his only care! Here he paced the walk which cut off her retreat from the gate, never glancing up.

Sabine saw him of course, and her heart began to beat--was it possible for a man to be so good-looking or so utterly casual and devil-may-care! If she walked toward the arbor turret he would be obliged to see her when she came to the end, and then must come up and say good-morning.

She picked up her flower-basket and went that way, and with due surprise and pleasure, Michael looked up from his paper at exactly the right moment and caught sight of her.
He came toward her with just the proper amount of haste and raised his straw hat in a gay good-morning.
"Isn't it a divine day," he said.