“I beg your pardon?” he asked as though he had not comprehended. “I said you are trespassing.” “Oh! Yes, of course. Well, really, you couldn’t expect me to sit out there in that hot sun, could you now? I――I have a rather delicate constitution.” “But you were trespassing before! Coming up here only makes it worse.” “Better, I call it,” he answered, turning to look back unregretfully at the pool. “And then――then it is equally wrong for me to stay here and talk to you.” “Oh come now!” he objected. “Nymphs in my day were not so conventional!” “So I shall leave you,” she continued, unheeding and turning away. “Then I shall go with you.” “You wouldn’t dare!” she cried. “Why not? Really, Miss Clytie, I am fairly respectable and I know of no reason why you shouldn’t be seen in my company. I have never done murder and never stolen less than a million dollars at a time. To be sure, I hope to become a practising attorney in the course of a year or so, but as yet my honor is unsullied.” She hesitated, her eyes turned in the direction of the house. “Besides,” he added hastily, “I was going to tell you what I know about you.” “Then,” she answered reluctantly, “I’ll stay――a minute.” “Thank you. And shall we be comfortable during that minute? ‘Come, let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the death of kings.’” She shook her head. “Please!” he begged. “You will never be able to stand during all I have to tell you. Besides, you forget my delicate physique; I have been repeatedly warned against over-exertion.” She sank gracefully to the grass in a billowing of white muslin, smiling and frowning at once as though annoyed by his persistence, yet too amiable to refuse. All of which produced its effect, Ethan realizing that she was doing him a great favor and becoming duly grateful. He followed her example, seating himself on the turf in front of her, paying, however, less attention to the disposition of his feet. Unconsciously his hand sought a pocket, then dropped away again. She laughed softly. [Illustration] “Please do,” she said. “You’re sure you don’t mind?” “Not at all,” she answered. So he produced his cigarette case and then his match-box and finally blew a breath of gray smoke toward the motionless branches overhead. “Feel better?” she asked sympathetically. “Much, thank you.” “Then you may begin.” “Begin――――?” “Tell me what you know about me.” “Oh! To be sure. Well, let me see. In the first place, your name is Laura Devereux. I am right?” She smiled mockingly. “I haven’t agreed to tell you that.” “Oh! But I know I am. I haven’t asked any questions, for that would have been taking an unfair advantage, I fancy. But I happened to overhear yesterday afternoon at the Inn that a family by the name of Devereux had taken The Larches. And, as I have been in Riverdell before, I know where The Larches is――are――. Would you say is or are?” “I am only a listener.”