“I don’t see what you mean,” said Mrs. Hay. And she did not. Wemyss smiled bitterly, or smiled as if he meant it so. Flossie laughed. Lord Birmingham came up and leaned over Mrs. Hay’s chair; then Van Kull came up on the other side, and Arthur had to go over to Miss Farnum, who was standing alone, looking over the parapet into the deep gorge in the forest, that led down toward the river. Mrs. Malgam and the other two girls were laughing together, standing at the other end of the terrace. Miss Farnum seemed to Arthur more _blasée_ than any girl he knew. “Why does your friend Mr. Haviland come here so much?” asked she, suddenly. Now, Arthur could certainly give no answer to this. And he remembered his first discovery of John’s secret, as he had thought. “It is a delightful house to visit,” said he. “Did you have a pleasant ride this morning?” And he remembered the scene in the opera-box. “I hate Englishmen and foreigners,” said she, inconsequently; and just then Birmingham came up. “Lovely day, Miss Farnum,” said he. “Ah, would you not like a bit of a walk? The park, down there, looks most inviting.” “I don’t know,” said she, listlessly. “What are the others going to do?” “They’re playing tennis, I dare say, or something like,” said he. “I got off, you know.” Miss Farnum turned toward the house; and just then the others joined them. “You play, Mr. Holyoke, I know,” said Marion Lenoir, “and Mr. Van Kull is such a dab at it.” Van Kull looked anything but a dab at it, but rather an oddly sophisticated lamb being led to the slaughter; but then Miss Lenoir was, as she expressed it, “a tennis girl.” And certainly she looked it, when Arthur met her on the lawn, her lithe young figure robed in a blue and white tennis dress, her black hair shining in a tight coil. “Fie, what would Jimmy say?” said Mrs. Gower to Miss Duval as they passed her. “Jimmy may say what he pleases,” said that young woman, with a shrug of her shoulders. They had played several sets, and Miss Lenoir so well that she and Arthur had won most of them, when there was a ripple of excitement among the two married women, who had been sitting on a shady bench watching the game. Mrs. Gower had disappeared; Mr. Wemyss had sauntered up from time to time, to say a word and disappear again. “I do believe it’s the men come back!” cried Mrs. Hay, as a carriage stopped at the door of the house.