"Do you need a wrap, or are you sufficiently acclimatized ?" She came out to him, tall and slender in her black dinner gown, the figure of a girl, the pale, passionate face of a woman, to whom every moment of life had its own special and individual meaning.

Her eyes were strangely bright.

There was a tenseness about her manner, a restraint in her tone, which seemed to speak of some emotional crisis.

She passed out into the quiet garden, in itself so exquisitely in accordance with this sleeping land, and even Mannering was at once conscious of some alien note in these old-world surroundings which had long ago soothed his ruffled nerves into the luxury of repose.
"A wrap!" she murmured.

"How absurd! Come and let us sit under the cedar tree.