But Daphne sat erect, noticing nothing but the relief of the lowered temperature after her hot and tiresome journey. She applied herself occasionally to natural beauty, as she applied herself to music or literature, but it is not to women of her type that the true passion of it--"the soul's bridegroom"--comes. And she was absorbed in thinking how she should open her business to Herbert French. Prospect House turned out to be a detached villa standing in a garden, with a broad view of the Channel. Daphne sent her carriage back to the inn and climbed the steep drive which led up to the verandaed house. The front garden was empty, but voices--voices, it seemed, of children--came from behind the house where there was a grove of trees. "Is Mr. Herbert French at home?" she asked of the maid who answered her bell. The girl looked at her doubtfully. "Yes, ma'am--but he doesn't see visitors yet. Shall I tell Mrs. French? She's in the garden with the children." "No, thank you," said Daphne, firmly. "It's Mr. French I have come to see, and I am sure that he will wish to see me. Will you kindly give him my card? I will come in and wait." And she brushed past the maid, who was intimidated by the visitor's fashionable dress and by the drooping feathers of her Paris hat, in which the sharp olive-skinned face with its magnificent eyes was picturesquely framed. The girl gave way unwillingly, showed Mrs. Floyd into a small study looking on the front garden, and left her. * * * * * "Elsie!" cried Herbert French, springing from the low chair in which he had been lounging in his shirt-sleeves with a book when the parlour-maid found him, "Elsie!" His wife, who was at the other end of the lawn, playing with the children, the boy on her back and a pair of girl twins clinging to her skirts, turned in astonishment and hurried back to him. "Mrs. Floyd?" They both looked at the card in bewilderment. "Who is it? Mrs. Floyd?" Then French's face changed. "What is this lady like?" he asked peremptorily of the parlour-maid. "Well, sir, she's a dark lady, dressed very smart----" "Has she very black eyes?" "Oh yes, sir!" "Young?" The girl promptly replied in the negative, qualifying it a moment afterward by a perplexed "Well, I shouldn't say so, sir." French thought a moment. "Thank you. I will come in." He turned to his wife with a rapid question, under his breath. "Where is Roger?" Elsie stared at him, her colour paling. "Herbert!--it can't--it can't----" "I suspect it is--Mrs. Barnes," said French slowly. "Help me on with my coat, darling. Now then, what shall we do?" "She can't have come to force herself on him!" cried his wife passionately. "Probably she knows nothing of his being here. Did he go for a walk?" "Yes, towards Sandown. But he will be back directly."