The sunlight streamed into the deep hall and stretched hesitant fingers into the dusty quiet of the great East Indian room, gilding the soft tones of the faded chintz, touching very gently the polished furniture and the dim prints on the walls. He swung across the threshold without a word, Daphne tiptoeing behind him. "How still it is," he said in a hushed voice. "How sweet it smells!" "It's the potpurri in the Canton jars," she told him shyly. "I always made it every summer for Lady Audrey--she thought I did it better than any one else. I think so too." She flushed at the mirth in his eyes, but held her ground sturdily. "Flowers are sweeter for you if you love them--even dead ones," she explained bravely. "They would be dead indeed, if they were not sweet for you." Her cheeks burned bright at the low intensity of his voice, but he turned suddenly away. "Oh, there she sails--there she sails still, my beauty. Isn't she the proud one though--straight into the wind!" He hung over the little ship model, thrilled as any child. "_The Flying Lady_--see where it's painted on her? Grandfather gave it to me when I was seven--he had it from his father when he was six. Lord, how proud I was!" He stood back to see it better, frowning a little. "One of those ropes is wrong; any fool could tell that--" His hands hovered over it for a moment--dropped. "No matter--the new owners are probably not seafarers! The lacquer chest is at the far end, isn't it? Yes, here. Are three enough--four? We're off!" But still he lingered, sweeping the great room with his dark eyes. "It's full of all kinds of junk--they never liked it--no period, you see. I had the run of it--I loved it as though it were alive; it was alive, for me. From Elizabeth's day down, all the family adventurers brought their treasures here--beaten gold and hammered silver--mother-of-pearl and peacock feathers, strange woods and stranger spices, porcelains and embroideries and blown glass. There was always an adventurer somewhere in each generation--and however far he wandered, he came back to Green Gardens to bring his treasures home. When I was a yellow-headed imp of Satan, hiding my marbles in the lacquer chest, I used to swear that when I grew up I would bring home the finest treasure of all, if I had to search the world from end to end. And now the last adventurer has come home to Green Gardens--and he has searched the world from end to end--and he is empty-handed." "No, no," whispered Daphne. "He has brought home the greatest treasure of all, that adventurer. He has brought home the beaten gold of his love, and the hammered silver of his dreams--and he has brought them from very far." "He had brought greater treasures than those to you, lucky room," said the last of the adventurers. "You can never be sad again--you will always be gay and proud--because for just one moment he brought you the gold of her hair and the silver of her voice."