The following afternoon Dumont took the Herrons, the Fanshaws and Langdon back to New York in his private car, and for three days Olivia and Pauline had the Eyrie to themselves. Olivia was about to write to Scarborough, asking him to call, when she saw in the News-Bulletin that he had gone to Denver to speak. A week after she left, Dumont returned, bringing his sister Gladys, just arrived from Europe, and Langdon. He stayed four days, took Langdon away with him and left Gladys. Thus it came about that Scarborough, riding into Colonel Gardiner's grounds one hot afternoon in mid September, saw a phaeton-victoria with two women in it coming toward him on its way out. He drew his horse aside to make room. He was conscious that there were two women; he saw only one--she who was all in white except the scarlet poppies against the brim of her big white hat. As he bowed the carriage stopped and Pauline said cordially: "Why, how d'ye do?" He drew his horse close to the carriage and they shook hands. She introduced the other woman--"My sister-in-law, Gladys Dumont"--then went on: "We've been lunching and spending the afternoon with father and mother. They told us you returned this morning." "I supposed you were in the East," said Scarborough--the first words he had spoken. "Oh--I'm living here now--Gladys and I. Father says you never go anywhere, but I hope you'll make an exception for us." "Thank you--I'll be glad to call." "Why not dine with us--day after to-morrow night?" "I'd like that--certainly, I'll come." "We dine at half-past eight--at least we're supposed to." Scarborough lifted his hat. The carriage drove on. "Why, he's not a bit as I expected," Gladys began at once. "He's much younger. ISN'T he handsome! That's the way a MAN ought to look. He's not married?" "No," replied Pauline. "Why did you look so queer when you first caught sight of him?" "Did I?" Pauline replied tranquilly. "Probably it was because he very suddenly and vividly brought Battle Field back to me--that was the happiest time of my life. But I was too young or too foolish, or both, to know it till long afterward. At seventeen one takes happiness for granted." "Did he look then as he does now?" "No--and yes," said Pauline. "He was just from the farm and dressed badly and was awkward at times. But--really he was the same person. I guess it was the little change in him that startled me." And she became absorbed in her thoughts. "I hope you'll send him in to dinner with me," said Gladys, presently. "What did you say?" asked Pauline, absently. "I was talking of Mr. Scarborough. I asked if you wouldn't send him in to dinner with me--unless you want to discuss old times with him." "Yes--certainly--if you wish."