To know why my name is written across your garden.

Not amicably either." He spoke grimly, for the thing had hit him.

It is impossible to describe the effect produced on the mind by that quiet and sunny garden scene, the frame for a stunning and brutal personality.

The evening air was still, and the grass was golden in the place where the little flowers he studied cried to heaven for his blood.
"You know I must not turn round," said the lady; "every afternoon till the stroke of six I must keep my face turned to the street." Some queer and unusual inspiration made the prosaic soldier resolute to accept these outrageous riddles without surprise.
"It is almost six," he said; and even as he spoke the barbaric copper clock upon the wall clanged the first stroke of the hour.

At the sixth the lady sprang up and turned on the Major one of the queerest and yet most attractive faces he had ever seen in his life; open, and yet tantalising, the face of an elf.
"That makes the third year I have waited," she cried.