"What in the world can you be thinking of me?" she said. "Alone in this old house, here among the remoter hills of Westchester. I live so vividly in the past that these almost forgotten tragedies seem very real to me and touch me closely. To me the present is only a shadow; the past is life itself. Can you understand?" "I see," he said, intensely relieved concerning her mental stability; "you are a Daughter of the American Revolution or a Society of Colonial Wars or--er--something equally--er--interesting and desirable----" "I am a Daughter of the American Revolution," she said proudly. "Exactly," he smiled with an inward shudder. "A--a very interesting--er--and--exceedingly--and--all that sort of thing," he nodded amiably. "Don't take much interest in it myself--being a broker and rather busy----" "I am sorry." He looked up quickly and met her strange eyes, one hazel-grey, one hazel-brown. "I--I'll be delighted to take an interest in anything you--in--er--this Revolutionary business if you--if you don't mind telling me about it," he stammered. "Evenings, now, if you have time to spare----" She smiled, opened the door wider, and looked humorously down at him where he stood fidgeting on the step. "Will you come in?" she asked serenely. [Illustration] [Illustration] XX HE went, first depositing his suit-case on the step outside by the cats, and followed her into a large, comfortable sitting room. "By jove," he said, "you know this is really mighty pretty! What a corking collection of old furniture! Where in the world did you find--or perhaps this is the original furniture of the place?" She said, looking around the room as though slightly perplexed: "This furniture was made to order for me in Boston." "Then it isn't genuine," he said, disappointed. "But it's a very clever imitation of antique colonial. It is really a wonderful copy." "I don't think it is a copy." "It certainly doesn't look like it; but it must be if it was made in Boston for you. They're ingenious fellows, these modern makers of colonial furniture. Every antique shop in New York is loaded up with excellent copies of this sort--only not nearly as well done." She assented, apparently with no very clear understanding of what he meant. "What a charming setting this old house makes for such things," he said. She nodded, looking doubtfully at the rag carpet. "The Manor House was much finer," she observed. "Come to the window and I'll show you where it stood. They were fine folk, the Lockwoods, Hunts, and Fanchers." They rose and she laid one pretty hand on his sleeve and guided him into a corner of the window, where he could see. "Hello," he said uneasily, "there is a main travelled road! I thought that here we were at the very ends of civilisation!" "That is the Bedford road," she said. "Over there, beyond those chestnuts, is the Stamford road. Can you see those tall old poplars? Beyond the elms I mean--there--where the crows are flying?"