“No. I don’t admire her at all. She was handsome when she married. Those Spanish women all get too fat. You saw something of Barclay at Foleys after I left, didn’t you?” She dropped her eyes to the hands folded in her lap and said with a nonchalant air, “Yes, he was at Foleys for over a week. He came back from Thompson’s Flat just after you left, and he used to come and see us every afternoon. We had lots of fun. He helped us with the garden, and he didn’t know how to do anything, and we had to teach him.” “You saw a lot of Rion Gracey too, I suppose,” said her companion, with a sidelong eye on her. It pleased him to note that at this remark she looked suddenly conscious. The Colonel had for some time cherished a secret hope. It was one of the subjects of mutual agreement which had made it easier for him and Allen to bury the hatchet. The latter had told him of Rion Gracey’s continued visits to the cottage throughout the summer, and both men had agreed that no woman could find a better husband than the younger of the Gracey boys. June’s conscious air was encouraging, but her words were aggravatingly non-committal. “Oh, yes,” she said, “we saw Mr. Gracey often. He was always coming into Foleys to buy supplies for the Buckeye Belle.” At that moment Barclay, who had turned away from his companions, saw her, and with a start of recognition followed by a smile of undisguised pleasure, hurried toward her. The Colonel rose with some reluctance. He was surprised and not entirely pleased at the open delight of the young man’s countenance, the confident friendliness of his greeting. He gave up his chair, however, and as he crossed the room to one of his elderly cronies, he saw that Mrs. Newbury was watching Jerry Barclay and June with a slight, lazy smile and attentive eyes. “I came here to-night solely to see you,” said the young man, as soon as the Colonel was out of earshot. “But how did you know I was here?” asked the innocent June. “I never told you.” “No, you naughty girl, you never did. But I heard it.” “Little birds?” she queried, tilting up her chin and looking at him out of the ends of her eyes. “Little birds,” he acquiesced. “And why didn’t you let me know? Don’t I remember your making me a solemn promise at Foleys to tell me the first thing if you ever came to San Francisco? You were doubtful then if you ever would.” “Yes, I think you do,” she agreed. “That is, if you’ve got a good memory.” “You evidently haven’t.” “I remembered it perfectly and was waiting until we got settled in our new house before I wrote you. I was going to give you a surprise.” “Well, you’ve surprised me enough already.” He leaned a little nearer to her, and looking at her with eyes that were at once soft and bold said: “You’ve changed so; you’ve changed immensely since I saw you last.” She dropped her eyes and said demurely, “I hope it’s for the better,” then looked up at him and their laughter broke out in happy duet.