“He got more than five dollars’ worth out of that dance, Plato! There’s Miss Jinny now,” he added, glancing down the driveway. “You go and help her out with her packages.” The old wagonette had entered the gateway, and Plato hurried off across the lawn; but the horses stopped short, and Virginia got out, meeting some one who had entered from the opposite direction. The colonel, well in the shade of his horse-chestnut, removed his cigar from his mouth. He was startled. The visitor was William Carter. While Plato was taking a number of small packages from the wagonette, the pair greeted each other in the sunlit space of the old driveway. Something in their faces made the colonel rise silently and deftly beat a retreat. He passed behind the old box hedge and made his way back to the house. “I reckon they’d like to have it out by themselves,” he thought. Virginia, meanwhile, came across the lawn with William Carter. She stopped as she came near the horse-chestnut. “Why, I thought grandfather was here!” she exclaimed, and then to William: “Won’t you sit down? I’ll call him.” “But I didn’t come to see him,” said William quietly. “I came to see you, Virginia. I suppose I may sit down just the same?” She blushed. “Of course!” She took off her hat and laid it on the rustic table, and the sunshine seemed to caress the strands of gold in her soft hair. “We like to sit out here, you know, in summer. It seems so good to be out-of-doors. Do you notice what a view we have, since they cut that new street through?” She was talking hurriedly, a little nervously, not looking at him. It was their first moment alone together since his return, and Virginia was not quite sure of herself. She pointed out the view. William turned and looked at it absently. “You can see a long way, can’t you?” “Yes; and there’s such a glimpse now of blooming things. The old magnolia’s full of buds.” “Fanchon doesn’t like these things,” said William moodily. “They bore her. She says she’d rather see one of those electric signs in New York, flashing Budweiser beer in and out, than sit here and count lightning-bugs!” Virginia laughed, blushing again. “What would we do if we all liked the same thing?” she asked lightly, and then, very sweetly: “William, I think your wife is beautiful. At first, one can’t decide, the face is so charming, so piquant; but when she smiles and those dark eyes of hers dwell on you--she’s beautiful!” William said nothing for a moment. He was sitting in the colonel’s chair, his hat on his knees, and Virginia could see new haggard lines in his face. He did not look at her, but away toward a distant spire that appeared above the thick foliage, like a finger pointing upward. “Yes, she’s beautiful,” he admitted at last, almost with reluctance.