Meanwhile Raine sat in his father's room, and continued the interrupted gossip. But towards three o'clock the old man's eyes grew heavy, as he leaned his head back in the armchair. He struggled to keep them open for Raine's sake, but at last the latter rose with a smile. “Why, you are sleepy, dad!” “Yes,” murmured the old man, apologetically. “It's a new habit I have contracted--I must break myself of it gradually. I suppose I am getting old, Raine. You won't think it unkind of me will you? Just forty winks, Raine.” “Have your nap out comfortably,” said the young man. He fetched a footstool, arranged a cushion with singular tenderness behind the old man, and left him to his sleep. Then he went out for a stroll through the town. It was a hot, sunny day. At the end of the street, the gate of the Jardin Anglais stood invitingly open. Raine entered, and came upon the enclosed portion of the Quai that forms the promenade, pleasant with its line of shady seats under the trees on one side, and the far-stretching lake on the other. He paused for awhile, and leant over the balustrade to light a cigarette and to admire the view--the cloudless sky, the deep blue water flecked with white sails, the imposing mass of the hotels on the Quai du Mont Blanc, the busy life on the bridge, beneath which the Rhone flows out of the lake. He drew in a long breath. Somehow it was more exhilarating than his college gardens. The place was not crowded, as the tourist season had not yet set in. But the usual number of nurses and children scattered themselves promiscuously along the path, and filled the air with shrill voices. Raine, continuing his stroll, had not gone many steps when he perceived, far ahead, a lady start from her seat and run to pick up a child that had fallen down. On advancing farther, he saw that it was Mrs. Stapleton, who had got the child on her knees and was tenderly wiping the little gravel-scratched hands, while the nurse, who had come up, stood by phlegmatic. It was a pretty sight, instinct with feminine charm, and struck gratefully on the man's senses. Katherine looked very fresh and delicate in her sprigged lilac blouse, plain serge skirt, and simple black straw hat, and the attitude in which she bent down to the chubby, tearful face under the white sun-bonnet was very graceful and womanly. She kissed the child and handed it to its nurse as Raine came up. She greeted him with a smile. “Quite a catastrophe--but she will forget all about it in half an hour. It must be delightful to be a child.” “If all hurts are so promptly and tenderly healed, I should think it must be,” said Raine. “Thank you,” she said, with an upward glance; “that is a pretty compliment.” Raine bowed, laughed his acknowledgments, and with a word of request, sat down by her side. “Is this a haunt of yours?” he asked. “Yes, I suppose it is. It is so near the pension--and I love the open air.”