"Me," she interrupted, with a laugh. "We'll make a party, as the children say. Nora will give us broiled chicken and yellow wine in the long-necked glasses, and cake with nuts in it, and you," she stopped for a second, the dimple in the left cheek showing itself, "will give all of your nuts to me; for it is well to sacrifice for another," she said, with a laugh, "and exceeding well," she added, "that I should have the nuts." Having ordered the luncheon, they went together down the gravelled pathway to the grape arbor, which was grown over with sweet, old-fashioned climbing roses, through which the sunlight filtered in wavy lights on the quaint low rocker, the long rattan couch, the pillows of gay hue, the table covered with books and sewing. Frank paused at the archway and looked in. "I have found it," he said. "What?" she asked. "The world's end," he answered. "You must," she explained, "_really_ to appreciate this place, lie on the couch so that you may see the wistaria on the gray wall. You should then light a cigarette and have the table brought near, that you may ring for what you want." She moved the table toward him as she spoke. "And I will take this chair beside you. If you want me to talk to you I shall do so; if you want me to sing, I will do that; or if the king desires silence"--she made an obeisance before him as of great humility--"I can even accomplish that, though it is difficult for a woman," she added, with a laugh. It was dangerous repayment of a kindness: this entire forgetfulness of herself in her gratitude to him; this essence of the wine of flattery, of Irish flattery, which has ever a peculiar bouquet of its own. "You have a good friend in McDermott," Francis said, abruptly. "Yes; he has been kind to us, most kind," Katrine answered. "For old sake's sake?" Frank suggested. "Scarcely for that. We never knew him until father met him quite by accident in New York two years ago." "Didn't they fight together in India?" Frank inquired. "In India!" Katrine repeated. "Father was never in India. Will some one have been telling you that McDermott and he fought together in India, Mr. Ravenel?" she asked, in astonishment. Frank sat upright, regarding her with amazement. "Didn't your father save his life at Ramazan?" It was Katrine's turn to be bewildered. "I never heard of Ramazan," she said. "Where is it?" "And he was not present at your father's marriage in Italy?" Katrine shook her head; but to Ravenel's astonishment she began to wear an amused smile as he repeated McDermott's tale to her bit by bit. "I understand," she explained, "my father saved him from a horrible attack of the measles in New York. They thought for weeks that he would die." "But why," Frank demanded, "didn't he say just that?"