the room. "And Fair--if you have anything to say to Miss Dandridge, this
is the shepherd's hour. We go home to-morrow."

"What the Devil?"--began the younger Cary.

"No, not the Devil," said the other, with a twist of the lip half
humorous, half piteous. "Just woman."

He was gone. Fairfax Cary looked at his watch, then rose from his bed
and looked out of the window at the rose and dew of the dawn. "What the
Devil!" he said again to himself; and then, with a forehead of
perplexity, "He was up late last night--out in the garden alone. He
rides off to Greenwood with the dawn, and we go home to-morrow. She
can't have refused him--that's not possible!" He went back to bed to
study matters over. At last, "The jade!" he exclaimed with conviction,
and two hours later, when he came down to breakfast, wished Miss
Churchill good-morning with glacial courtesy.

Jacqueline, behind the coffee urn, had heavy-lidded eyes, and her smile
was tremulous. Unity, brilliant and watchful, regarded the universe and
the hauteur of young Mr. Cary with lifted brows. Major Churchill, when
he appeared, shot one glance at the place that was Ludwell Cary's,
another at his niece, then sat heavily down, and in a querulous voice
demanded coffee. Colonel Dick wore a frown. Deb, who before breakfast
had visited a new foal in the long pasture, kept for a time the ball of
conversation rolling; but the dulness and the chill in the air presently
enwrapped her also. The meal came to an end with only one hazard as to
what could have taken Ludwell Cary to Greenwood for the entire day. That
was Unity's, who remarked that pains must be bestowed upon the hanging
of a drawing-room paper, else the shepherds and the shepherdesses would