"You have so much determination, haven't you?" she said, looking at him. Landry enlarged his shoulders a little and wagged his head. "Well," he said, "I don't know, but I'd try pretty hard to get what I wanted, I guess." "I love to see that characteristic in men," she observed. "Strength, determination." "Just as a man loves to see a woman womanly," he answered. "Don't you hate strong-minded women?" "Utterly." "Now, you are what I would call womanly--the womanliest woman I've ever known." "Oh, I don't know," she protested, a little confused. "Yes, you are. You are beautifully womanly--and so high-minded and well read. It's been inspiring to me. I want you should know that. Yes, sir, a real inspiration. It's been inspiring, elevating, to say the least." "I like to read, if that's what you mean," she hastened to say. "By Jove, I've got to do some reading, too. It's so hard to find time. But I'll make time. I'll get that 'Stones of Venice' I've heard you speak of, and I'll sit up nights--and keep awake with black coffee--but I'll read that book from cover to cover." "That's your determination again," Page exclaimed. "Your eyes just flashed when you said it. I believe if you once made up your mind to do a thing, you would do it, no matter how hard it was, wouldn't you?" "Well, I'd--I'd make things hum, I guess," he admitted. The next day was Easter Sunday, and Page came down to nine o'clock breakfast a little late, to find Jadwin already finished and deep in the pages of the morning paper. Laura, still at table, was pouring her last cup of coffee. They were in the breakfast-room, a small, charming apartment, light and airy, and with many windows, one end opening upon the house conservatory. Jadwin was in his frock coat, which later he would wear to church. The famous gardenia was in his lapel. He was freshly shaven, and his fine cigar made a blue haze over his head. Laura was radiant in a white morning gown. A newly cut bunch of violets, large as a cabbage, lay on the table before her. The whole scene impressed itself sharply upon Page's mind--the fine sunlit room, with its gay open spaces and the glimpse of green leaves from the conservatory, the view of the smooth, trim lawn through the many windows, where an early robin, strayed from the park, was chirruping and feeding; her beautiful sister Laura, with her splendid, overshadowing coiffure, her pale, clear skin, her slender figure; Jadwin, the large, solid man of affairs, with his fine cigar, his gardenia, his well-groomed air. And then the little accessories that meant so much--the smell of violets, of good tobacco, of fragrant coffee; the gleaming damasks, china and silver of the breakfast table; the trim, fresh-looking maid, with her white cap, apron, and cuffs, who came and went; the thoroughbred setter dozing in the sun, and the parrot dozing and chuckling to himself on his perch upon the terrace outside the window.