rosebush to illustrate her profession of industry.

"And do you generally live here?" asked Claudius, who was as yet in
complete ignorance of the Countess's name, title, nationality, and mode
of life, for Mr. Barker had, for some occult reason, left him in the
dark.

Perhaps the Countess guessed as much, for she briefly imparted a good
deal of information.

"When Count Alexis, my husband, was alive, we lived a great deal in
Russia. But I am an American like Mr. Barker, and I occasionally make a
trip to my native country. However, I love this place in summer, and I
always try to be here. That is my friend, Miss Skeat, who lives with
me."

Miss Skeat was stranded under a tree with a newspaper and several books.
Her polished cheekbones and knuckles glimmered yellow in the shade. By
her side was a long cane chair, in which lay a white silk wrap and a bit
of needlework, tumbled together as the Countess had left them when she
went in to receive her visitors. Miss Skeat rose as the party
approached. The Countess introduced the two men, who bowed low, and they
all sat down, Mr. Barker on the bench by the ancient virgin, and
Claudius on the grass at Margaret's feet. It was noonday, but there was
a light breeze through, the flowers and grasses. The conversation soon
fell into pairs as they sat.

"I should not have said, at first sight, that you were a very
imaginative person, Dr. Claudius," said the Countess.