Her opportunity came the very next evening, for directly dinner was finished Nathalie and Miss Stuart started off on a long-planned ride with Churchill and Andrews. Jean stood on the veranda to watch them mount and ride away. Her eyes followed them until their four figures, swaying slightly with the motion of the horses, were no longer silhouetted against the evening sky, then descended the broad flight of steps, and wandered out into the garden. The sun had already set, but the earth was still wrapped in the mystic light of the purple after-glow. Once in the sweet old-fashioned garden Jean paced slowly up and down the trim paths, bordered by rows of fragrant mignonette and carnations, and flanked at the corners by tall hollyhocks and slender poppies, and into her sad heart stole something of the peace and quiet of the tranquil spot. "It is all so strange and incomprehensible," ran her thoughts, "but I am not going to worry about it. There must be some mistake somewhere. I believed in him so implicitly. I felt so sure of his love--oh, I cannot, I will not believe that he deliberately deceived me. If only he were here now, while she is away, I am sure that everything could be explained. Oh, he might come--he might be honest with me!" The garden gate clicked, and she looked up with startled eyes; but it was only Helen coming down the path to meet her. "Why did you run away?" her sister asked as she linked her arm in hers. "I didn't run very fast," smiled Jean. "I sauntered out when the girls started off for their ride. It is so restful here," she added in a lower tone. "That doesn't sound one bit like you, Jean," said Helen slowly. "I am afraid something must be troubling you, if you feel the need of a restful place where you can be alone." Jean laughed nervously. "Why, what an absurd idea, Helen. Why should I be unhappy?" "That is just what I don't know, dear, but I think you are." "Well, what if I am?" cried Jean, brought to bay. "One cannot always be perfectly contented and happy; I do not suppose that I am to be any more exempt than other people." Helen's eyes were bent on the ground, and she spoke with some hesitation. "Of course that is true enough, but there is usually some definite cause for unhappiness. I don't want to be impertinent, Jean, but is there not some one thing weighing on you at present? Has--" She paused, then went on desperately--"has Mr. Farr anything to do with it?" She felt the violent start that Jean gave, heard the sharp indrawing of her breath, and she did not dare to raise her eyes to her sister's face for fear of reading there still further confirmation of her surmises. She had need of all her courage yet to deal the cruel blow, and without pausing for breath, she hurried on. Her words were confused, incoherent, but they struck a chill as of death to Jean's tender heart.