“It will be all right if we go on gently like this,” she said with intent to soothe. “In a few days I shan’t mind what I do. We can go one of our nice long Sunday walks again.” He made a movement. “They are the greatest pleasure I have in the world--even when it thunders and lightens.... By the way, I have some news for you--bad news. There is a new arrival at the hotel. I heard the noise of installation.” “The deuce there is!” he said, the current of his thoughts, whatever they were, entirely changed in a moment by news so stirring. “A man or a woman?” “A man, I think. His boots made such a noise, stamping over my head.” “One of those wretched touring bicyclists probably. He will perhaps only stop the night. Any luggage?” “I saw none. That rather helps the bicyclist theory. But then, I saw no bicycle. Oh! I do hope, though, that it is all right. We don’t want anyone else here, do we?” She came a little nearer to him, unconsciously, as she spoke. “We”--she enjoyed using the pronoun. Together they walked down the espalier-bordered path of the inn garden; and, as they turned in under the porch, she raised her arm and broke off a rose and put it, somewhat obtrusively, and a little against his will perhaps, into the artist’s button-hole. It was all done in the sight of Jane Anne, who came rushing downstairs from the upper rooms as they entered, looking, somehow, very busy and excited. It was Jane Anne, not Dorothy, who for some reason or other brought in the lamp to them that evening, setting it down heavily, so heavily that Mrs. Elles, looking up, saw that the girl’s hands were trembling with nervousness. But through some unaccountable swing of the mental pendulum Phœbe Elles was to-night so nearly absolutely happy that she did not waste a thought on the causes of the young woman’s excitement, or that other problem, the possible duration of the mysterious visitor’s stay. Tourists might--and would--come and go, she and Rivers were there it might be for ever. For ever! Yes, she felt to-night as if that might really be, and life remain for ever a fairy tale. The prince was here, in the enchanted castle, in willing bonds to the enchanted princess, and so far, no dragons--or other princesses contested him with her. She sat in the low window seat and leaned back against the sill, her hands idly clasped behind her head, and closed her eyes now and then, and felt so happy that she smiled without knowing it. She had bidden truce to her eternal self-consciousness for once.