the days of your pinafores and braids, when I was honored with the
sobriquet of 'Soldier-man' and you were the 'Little Empress.'"

His voice was one that would have lent itself to eloquence. Now its even
modulation carried a sort of cold charm.

"You do not like me," he repeated.

"I don't know," she answered simply. "I hadn't thought about it. I was
surprised."

"Naturally." He contemplated her with grave eyes that seemed to admit no
play of expression. "I came only to ask an interview later. At any time
that may be most agreeable--Pardon me," he interrupted himself with a
certain cynical humor in his voice, "at any time, I should say, that may
be least disagreeable to you."

"I will tell you later," she said. He bowed himself backward, then
turning on his heel went silently down the stairs.

She stood hesitant for a moment, with both hands pressed against the
door at her back, and her brow drawn in a deep furrow, then she threw
her chin upward and shook her head with that resolute gesture which
meant, with her, shaking off at least the outward seeming of annoyance.

Benton came out from his hiding-place behind the palms, and she looked
up at him with a momentary clearing of her brow.

"Where were you?" she asked.