'Oh, the garden,' says Miss Seaton, 'fancy naming them together. Supper
is such a very prosaic affair,' and then as they enter the garden, 'One
could almost imagine oneself miles away from London here.'

'They have arranged it awfully well,' says Dalrymple, gazing round on
the illuminated parterres, and then, 'would you like to sit or shall we
walk about?'

'Walk, I think,' replies Philippa, and so they wander on, talking about
nothing in particular, and yet they both forget that there are such
things as sleep and to-morrow. Having come to the end of a narrow path,
and finding two empty chairs they remain there. The lights are dim and
the people passing and repassing are scarcely recognisable, but
presently a lady in a light blue gown attracts Lippa's attention. 'Who
is she?' she says.

Dalrymple turns and looks at her. They hear a murmured sentence and then
'Eh, what!' in rather an unmistakeable tone.

'Oh, her partner is Helmdon,' says Jimmy, 'he's never to be mistaken
with his _what_. The lady, I think, is Mrs Standish, an American widow,
and therefore rolling in riches. I never knew an American widow who
wasn't.'

'It would be very nice,' says Lippa.

'What! to be an American widow?'

She laughs. 'No! to be very rich; there would be no need to think twice
as to whether you could afford anything--'