The statesman smiled. West felt that he, who had no business to,
was smiling with him.

The waiter returned, bringing grapefruit, and the strawberries West
had ordered. Without another look toward West, the girl put down
her paper and began her breakfasting. As often as he dared, however,
West looked at her. With patriotic pride he told himself: "Six
months in Europe, and the most beautiful thing I've seen comes from
back home!"

When he rose reluctantly twenty minutes later his two compatriots
were still at table, discussing their plans for the day. As is
usual in such cases, the girl arranged, the man agreed.

With one last glance in her direction, West went out on the parched
pavement of Haymarket.

Slowly he walked back to his rooms. Work was waiting there for
him; but instead of getting down to it, he sat on the balcony of
his study, gazing out on the courtyard that had been his chief
reason for selecting those apartments. Here, in the heart of the
city, was a bit of the countryside transported--the green, trim,
neatly tailored countryside that is the most satisfying thing in
England. There were walls on which the ivy climbed high, narrow
paths that ran between blooming beds of flowers, and opposite
his windows a seldom-opened, most romantic gate. As he sat
looking down he seemed to see there below him the girl of the
Carlton. Now she sat on the rustic bench; now she bent above the
envious flowers; now she stood at the gate that opened out to a