It is worthy of note also that two young people who might be expected to take the liveliest interest in each other's company were steadfast in their determination to separate. Each meant to send the other back to England with the least possible delay, and both were eager to fly into each other's arms--in London! Whereat the gods may have laughed, or frowned, as the case may be, if they glanced at the horoscopes of certain mortals pent within the mountain walls of the Upper Engadine. While Helen was still gazing after Millicent's retreating carriage, Bower came from the darksome foyer to the sunlit veranda. "So you parted the best of friends?" he said quietly. She turned and looked at him with shining eyes. "I cannot tell you how pleased I am that a stupid misunderstanding should be cleared away!" she said. "Then I share your pleasure, though, to be candid, I was thinking that a woman's kiss has infinite gradations. It may savor of Paradise or the Dead Sea." "But she told me how grieved she was that she had behaved so foolishly, and appealed to me not to let the folly of a day break the friendship of years." "Ah! Millicent picks up some well turned sentiments on the stage. Come out for a little stroll, and tell me all about it." Helen hesitated. "It will soon be tea time," she said, with a self conscious blush. She had promised Spencer to walk with him to the chateau; but her visit to Millicent had intervened, and he was not on the veranda at the moment. "We need not go far. The sun has garnished the roads for us. What do you say if we make for the village, and interview Johann Klucker's cat on the weather?" His tone was quite reassuring. To her transparent honesty of purpose it seemed better that they should discuss Millicent's motive in coming to the hotel and then dismiss it for ever. "A most excellent idea," she cried lightly. "I have been writing all the morning, so a breath of fresh air will be grateful." They passed down the steps. They had not gone more than a few paces when the driver of an empty carriage pulled up his vehicle and handed Bower a telegram. "They gave it to me at St. Moritz, Herr Bower," he said. "I took a message there for Herr Spencer, and they asked me to bring this to you, as it would reach you more quickly than if it came by the post." Bower thanked the man, and opened the envelop. It was a very long telegram; but he only glanced at it in the most cursory manner before putting it in a pocket. At a distant corner of the road by the side of the lake, Millicent turned for a last look at the hotel and waved a hand at them. Helen replied. "I almost wish now she was staying here a few days," she said wistfully. "She ought to have seen our valley in its summer greenery." "I fear she brought winter in her train," was Bower's comment. "But the famous cat must decide. Here, boy," he went on, hailing a village urchin, "where is Johann Klucker's house?"