However, she chatted gaily with Sir Charles and with Quarren, and after luncheon invited Sir Charles to read to her and Chrysos, which the grave and handsome Englishman did while they swung in old-fashioned hammocks under the maple trees, enjoying the rare treat of hearing their own language properly spoken. Molly had a book to herself on the veranda--the newest and wickedest of French yellow-covered fiction; her husband returned to the Stinger; Quarren listened to Sir Charles for a while, then without disturbing the reading, slipped quietly off and wandered toward the kennels. Here for a while he caressed the nervous, silky Blue Beltons, then strolled on toward the hemlock woods, a morning paper, still unread, sticking out of his pocket. When he came to the rustic seat which was his objective, he lighted his pipe, unfolded the paper, and forced his attention on the first column. How long he had been studying the print he did not know when, glancing up at the sound of footsteps on the dry leaves, he saw Strelsa coming in his direction. He could see her very plainly through the hemlocks from where he sat but she could not as yet see him. Then the fat waddling dog ahead of her, barked; and he saw the girl stop short, probably divining that the rustic seat was occupied. For a few moments she stood there, perhaps waiting for her dog to return; but that fat sybarite had his chin on Quarren's knees; and, presently, Strelsa moved forward, slowly, already certain who it was ahead of her. Quarren rose as she came around the curve in the path: "If you don't want me here I'm quite willing to retire," he said, pleasantly. "That is a ridiculous thing to say," she commented. Then she seated herself and motioned him to resume his place. "I was rather wondering," she continued, "whether I'd see you before you leave." "Oh, are you driving this afternoon?" "No." "Then I should certainly have looked for you and made my adieux." "Would you have remembered to do it?" He laughed: "What a question! I might possibly forget my own name, but not anything concerning you." She looked down at the paper lying between them on the bench, and, still looking down, said slowly: "I am sorry for what Langly did this morning.... He has expressed his contrition to me----" "_That_ is all right as long as he doesn't express it to me," interrupted Quarren, bluntly. "He means to speak to you----" "Please say to him that your report of his mental anguish is sufficient." "_Are_ you vindictive, Mr. Quarren?" she asked, reddening. "Not permanently. But I either like or I dislike. So let the incident close quietly." "Very well--if you care to humiliate me--him----" "Dear Mrs. Leeds, he isn't going to be humiliated, because he doesn't care. And you know I wouldn't humiliate you for all the world----" "You will unless you let Langly express his formal regrets to you----" He looked up at her: "Would _that_ make it easier for you?"