fact to themselves--who shall say?--but who are always dreams in the
lives of others."

"Charming," laughed the Countess, "do you always talk like that,
Professor Claudius?"

"I have always thought," Mr. Barker remarked in his high-set voice,
"that I would like to be the dream of somebody's life. But somehow
things have gone against me."

The other two laughed. He did not strike one as the sort of individual
who would haunt the love-sick dreams of a confiding heart.

"I would rather it were the other way," said Claudius thoughtfully.

"And I," rejoined the American, "would drink perdition to the
unattainable."

"Either I do not agree with you, Mr. Barker," said the Countess, "or
else I believe nothing is unattainable."

"I implore you to be kind, and believe the latter," he answered
courteously.

"Come, I will show you my garden," said Margaret rising. "It is
pleasanter in the open air." She led the way out through the glass door,
the men walking on her right and left.

"I am very fond of my garden," she said, "and I take great care of it
when I am here." She stopped and pulled two or three dead leaves off a