Just what he, on the other hand, may mean to her; just what form of deification he evokes in her, he can never know; for the women who write of such matters have never been those who are sincere or worth heeding, and they never will be, so long as woman's heart remains what it has been from the beginning--far-hidden, and filled with incommunicable secret beliefs and longings, and tremulous with fears that are beyond man's power to understand. Griswold had missed the white rose that he had begun to associate with Barbara, and he grew suddenly daring and spoke of it. "You haven't your rose to-day." "Oh, I'm beyond the source of supply! I have a young friend, a girl, who makes her living as a florist--not a purely commercial enterprise, for she experiments and develops new varieties, and is quite wonderful; and that white rose is her own creation--it is becoming well known. She named it for me, and she sends me at least one every day--she says it's my royalty--if that's what you lawyers call that sort of thing." "We lawyers rarely have anything so interesting as that to apply the word to! So that rose is the Barbara?" and it gave him a feeling of recklessness to find himself speaking her name aloud. "There are large conservatories on the estate, over there somewhere; I might risk the scarlet fever by attacking the gardener and demanding a Barbara for you." "I'm afraid my little flower hasn't attained to the grandeur of Ardsley," she laughed. "But pray, where are we?" They had reached the highroad much sooner than Griswold had expected, and he checked his horse abruptly, remembering that he was _persona non grata_ on this soil. "We must go back; I mustn't be seen here. The workmen are scattered all about the place, and they all know me." "Oh, just a little farther! I want to see the towers of the castle!" If she had asked him to jump into the sea he would not have hesitated; and he was so happy at being with her that his heart sang defiance to Ardmore and the splendors of Ardsley. They were riding now toward the red bungalow, where he had often sprawled on the broad benches and chaffed with Ardmore for hours at a time. Tea was served here sometimes when there were guests at the house; and Griswold wondered just who were included in the party that his quondam friend was entertaining, and how Mrs. Atchison was progressing in her efforts to effect a match between Daisy Waters and her brother. The drives were nearly all open to the public, so that by the letter of the law he was no intruder; but beyond the bungalow he must not go. Sobered by the thought of his breach with Ardmore, he resolved not to pass the bungalow whose red roof was now in sight. "It's like a fairy place, and I feel that there can be no end to it," Barbara was saying. "But it isn't kind to urge you in. We certainly are doing nothing to find Appleweight, and it must be nearly noon."