"That's the way I love to hear a man talk!" she said warmly. "I think it takes an American to stand up for his own place, his own times--_please_!" And gently, but with a lovely smile, she withdrew her hand that I had folded close in mine. I let it go, for I saw her look toward the house, and, of course, _I_ understood--jolly careless of me not to have remembered--but she would know from my nod and shrug that I comprehended. And really, by Jove, it was almost as pleasant as holding her hand, just to watch her leaning back against the iron pillar about which curved the dark-leaved tendrils of some purple-flowering vine. By Jove, she just looked like a stunning, white, Easter-card angel--that's what!--even to the golden hair they always have and the jolly wings; for her gleaming arms, spread behind her head, made you think of that. But _that_ was as near as one of them could come to her, for no golden-haired angel in white flowing nightgown was ever a patch on her for _style_! Never a one could look so _chic_ as she did in her smart linen suit, with its blue flannel collar, caught low with a flowing, breezy tie; and no jolly angel _I_ ever saw pictured could sport a waist like that, so dainty, so modish, so jolly snug and--er--squeezable, don't you know--_never_! And I was devilish sure that no barefooted or sandaled angel would ever dare to put a foot beside one of those little white Oxfords or that arching instep, just blushing faintly through the silken mesh that held it--well, I guess not! And where the angel, I should like to know, that could match her glorious, fluffy pompadour or the distracting little golden smoke wisps that whirled and pulled and tangled and tossed and twisted and tugged, trying to lift her in their feeble arms into the current of the wandering breeze? I sighed, and my deep breath brought her gaze back to me and her flashing smile as well. "And so," she said, lifting her little chin, "you think there are just as many knights now as there used to be?" I almost laughed at the child-like question--but I didn't! Dash it, no, I wouldn't have done so for the world. Just looked at her seriously and answered her in kind: "Perfectly sure of it, don't you know!" And, by Jove, I was! Knew if there had been any change, some newspaper-reading chap at the club would have mentioned it--_that_ was safe: especially one silly ass who was always reading of some jolly comet that was coming. _He_ would know about the nights. "Yes--oh, yes, there are just as many," I affirmed positively, and added quickly: "_More_, you know!" For suddenly I remembered it was leap-year, and I knew there was some jolly rhyme about leap-year gives us one day more--so, of course, there'd be another _night_! "You don't know how glad I am to hear you say that," she said musingly. "There are just as many knights, you mean, but the conditions have changed--the _man_ is changed--is that it?"