courtyard which is my great love in London--the old ivy-covered
walls of brick; the neat paths between the blooming beds; the
rustic seat; the magic gate. It was incredible that just outside
lay the world's biggest city, with all its poverty and wealth, its
sorrows and joys, its roar and rattle. Here was a garden for
Jane Austen to people with fine ladies and courtly gentlemen--here
was a garden to dream in, to adore and to cherish.

When Walters came back to tell me that his wife was uncertain as to
the exact date when the captain would return, I began to rave about
that courtyard. At once he was my friend. I had been looking for
quiet lodgings away from the hotel, and I was delighted to find that
on the second floor, directly under the captain's rooms, there was
a suite to be sublet.

Walters gave me the address of the agents; and, after submitting to
an examination that could not have been more severe if I had asked
for the hand of the senior partner's daughter, they let me come
here to live. The garden was mine!

And the captain? Three days after I arrived I heard above me, for
the first time, the tread of his military boots. Now again my
courage began to fail. I should have preferred to leave Archie's
letter lying in my desk and know my neighbor only by his tread above
me. I felt that perhaps I had been presumptuous in coming to live
in the same house with him. But I had represented myself to Walters
as an acquaintance of the captain's and the caretaker had lost no
time in telling me that "my friend" was safely home.

So one night, a week ago, I got up my nerve and went to the