Two ladies, unknown to her, were slowly sauntering past in the direction of the beach; one, near middle age, in a darkish gown; the other, young, in light colors of a distinctly fashionable tone; this latter carried over her shoulder a very large, fluffy, and, as it showed even at this distance, inexpressibly costly parasol. She turned her face a moment on the ancient vine-overclambered country-house, from one window of which peeped Chloris, looked it up and down and across, and turned away, making, Chloris supposed, some comment upon it to her companion. When they had disappeared from sight, Chloris, still at the window, musing on that face seen a moment, heard a leisurely jingling, and saw pass at a walking pace an empty shining carriage, drawn by two superb bays, driven by a man in livery. "It must be their turn-out," she concluded her wondering. "Who can they be but the people that were to move into the Beauregard cottage?" Then, as there was time to spare before tea, she sat down in the window. Shortly, was a lively jingling, a trampling, and the shining carriage bowled swiftly by on its way back from the beach; on its cushions, two ladies under a broad lacy parasol; a mighty cloud of dust running after it, never to over-take. Almost at the same moment Chloris saw Him, half the subject of her idyl, coming across the lawn. She went to meet him. "Who are the arrivals?" she asked at once. And here was pronounced, for the first time before Chloris, the name of Cytherea. "Cytherea, Damon? Who is Cytherea? Where does she come from? Do you know her?" "Very slightly," answered the young man; "I have met her in town. She had told me she thought of coming here for the summer, but I supposed it was conversation. I had completely forgotten, until I saw her this afternoon. She is entranced with everything! You can never see our poky little old place in its true light: you must get a description of it from her, Chloris. She will find it deadly dull before the end of a week; but for the moment she imagines quiet to be all she wants. She has been working like a slave at doing the proper thing in town." "She has brought her style with her, I see." "They are inseparable. She arrived yesterday on the late train, and you should see the change already in the Beauregard." "You have been there, then?" "Just a moment. They called to me from the veranda. They were having tea. Fancy their bringing down a grand-piano!" "Does she play much?" "I don't know. Very probably. She looks as if she might." "Oh, no, Damon! There you mistake. She looks as if she mightn't. She is very pretty, but I will vouch for it she can't play--" "Perhaps the cousin is the pianist. We shall see. I said you would call on them this evening." "I, Damon? The instant they arrive? Why did you say that? Why should I call before they have had time to breathe?"