Looking out beneath the roof of greenery they could see the wooded slope of the mountain cutting against a sky of cloudless blue, while the stir of the city came up to them faintly.

Weston had already, at one time or another, spent several pleasant hours on that balcony.

They had been speaking of nothing in particular, when at length Ida turned to him.
"Have you ever heard anything further from Scarthwaite ?" she asked.
Weston fumbled in his pocket.
"I had a letter only a few days ago." He took it out and handed it to her, with a little smile which he could not help, though he rather blamed himself for indulging in it.
"As you know the place and met my sister, you may enjoy reading it.
Julia's unusually communicative.

It almost seems as if I were a person of some consequence to them now." Ida took the letter, and her face hardened as she read.

Then she looked at him with a suggestive straightening of her brows.
"Isn't that only natural?
You have found a mine," she said.
"The same idea occurred to me," laughed Weston; "but, after all, perhaps I shouldn't have shown you the letter.