slight nod. Geraldine, who sat watching indifferently the filling of
Mrs. Dysart's glass, suddenly leaned back and turned her head sharply,
as though the aroma from glass and decanter were distasteful to her. In
a few minutes she rose, walked over to the parapet, and stood leaning
against the coping, apparently absorbed in the landscape.

The sun hung low over the flat little tree-clad mountains, which the
lake, now inlaid with pink and gold, reflected. A few fallow deer moved
quietly down there, ruddy spots against the turf.

Duane, carrying his glass with him, rose and stepped across the strip
of grass to her side, and, glancing askance at her, was on the point of
speaking when he discovered that her eyes were shut and her face
colourless and rigid.

"What is it?" he asked surprised. "Are you feeling faint, Geraldine?"

She opened her eyes, velvet dark and troubled, but did not turn around.

"It's nothing," she answered calmly. "I was thinking of several things."

"You look so white----"

"I am perfectly well. Bend over the parapet with me, Duane. Look at
those rocks down there. What a tumble! What a death!"

He placed his glass between them on the coping, and leaned over. She did
not notice the glass for a moment. Suddenly she wheeled, as though he
had spoken, and her eyes fell on the glass.