"I was surprised a few days ago when your aunt told me you had left the city to be manager of the Rockhaven Granite Co., and had gone away to some unheard of island. I had missed seeing you for a week, and when you were not at church with your aunt, asked her what had become of you. When she told me where you were it seemed likely you would be glad to hear from home, and as I am aware your worthy aunt hates letter writing, I thought I would be good to you. There isn't a bit of news to write, and the city is getting positively unbearable. "Mother and I are getting ready to go to the mountains; we shall start early in July and your aunt goes with us. I presume from what she said you will remain where you are this summer. I almost envy you, for it certainly must be cool there, and no doubt you have or will find some sweet fishermaid to flirt with. Grace is not going with us for she says a baby is a nuisance at a hotel and then 'hubby' can't afford it. I saw Jack (your chum) the other evening at the Bijou with a girl who was stunning, also Mabel Weston and her mother. "I do not know of anything else that will interest you except my address for the summer, which I enclose, and the hope that you won't forget us all before your return. "Yours sincerely, "ETHEL SHERMAN." And this from the girl who two short years before had laughed his marriage proposal to scorn. And he was like to find some simple fishermaid to flirt with, was he? And the cool indifference to that fact; and the covert, yet openly expressed invitation for him to write to her. Now Winn Hardy was not blind, and in spite of the two years, during which he had never met or thought of Ethel Sherman without a pin-prick in his heart, clear and distinct in his mind was the alluring glance of her blue eyes that had led him to make a fool of himself, and the red ripe temptation of her lips he had once stolen kisses from. And now she was inviting him to write to her. And not two rods away was a girl as simple and sweet as the daisies that bloomed in a meadow, as utterly unsophisticated as though reared within convent walls, with eyes like deep waters, and a soul trembling with passionate music! For one hour Winn communed with himself, glancing attentively at the little knot of flowers on a small table near him, and the letter beside them, and then arose and putting on his hat, left the house. It was a still summer evening with the crescent of a new moon glinting in the waters of Rockhaven harbor and outlining the spectral shape of the tower on Norse Hill. To this Winn turned his steps, and seating himself where he could look over the undulating ocean, continued his meditation.