"I had to come out and read the papers--and the courtyard looked so dull and I did not know where else to go--it is luck finding you here!" "I always come into the garden in the morning when it is fine--I know every plant and they are all my friends." Then to hide the pleasurable excitement she was feeling, she bent down and picked a bit of lavender.
"I love that smell--won't you give me some, too ?" he pleaded--and she handed him a sprig which he fixed in his white coat.

"You have made the most enchanting place of this," he next told her.

"Can't we go up and sit in that summer-house while you tell me how you began?
Henry said all this was a ruin when you bought it some years ago--it is extraordinarily clever of you." Not the slightest embarrassment was in his manner, not the smallest look of extra meaning in his eyes; he was simply a guest and she a hostess, out together in the sunlight.

A sense of unreality stole over Sabine.

It could not be all true--it was just some dream--a little more vivid, that was all, than those which used to come to her of him sometimes during--that year.