"My Uncle Tom and I do it between us, but it is our dear Barton who does the actual work. We potter round in the evenings, taking up a few weeds here and there. Is there a garden at the Château?" "There used to be. I think something could be made of it now, but there is no one with a head to do it—or hands either, for the matter of that. You'll see your aunt's staff and will, I expect, marvel at their industry as I do. The country villages in the out-of-way provinces in France have still the feudal system of retainers who grow up round the Château and consider they are part and parcel of it. It is out of date and all wrong from the socialist point of view, but it's rather pathetic. We have nothing like it in America, and I guess it's fast vanishing out of England!" "What do you call yourself? French or American?" asked Adrienne, standing still and regarding him with a flash of amusement in her pretty grey eyes. "I'm a mongrel, nothing more or less. You'll be able to tell me in a few weeks' time which country I favour most." "I think," said Adrienne rather slowly, "that I should do better if I were to time my visit to my aunt when yours ends. She can't need me so much when you are there as when she is quite alone." "She mustn't ever be alone again," was his quick response. "It has been nearly disastrous for her nerves as it is—these months since her daughter has left her! You don't realize how imperative it is that she should have companionship." "No, I don't," said Adrienne quietly; "there are so many widows who live their lives alone. I feel sorry for them, but they have had a good time, and if I were to like moralizing as you do, I should say that good and bad times are the lot of us all. Even the flowers require shade as well as sunshine. Aunt Cecily is no worse off than hundreds of other women. I know several widows in our neighbourhood, but they manage to exist, and love managing their husband's properties." They had made their round of the garden by this time, and Adrienne led the way back to the house. She found it impossible to suppress or to silence Guy de Beaudessert. He talked again about loneliness and depression. "I know what destructive forces they are. I have seen it out in the Bush and on ranches in the Rockies. I've experienced it myself, and if it can be eased or prevented in any way, for God's sake, I say it must be done." He had quite silenced Adrienne by the time they had reached the house. She felt as if her aunt's circumstances must rule her life, and was unusually thoughtful for the rest of the day. At dinner the guest was the chief speaker; he talked well, and his range of experience was wide. There seemed hardly a country which he had not visited.