when you arrive at Beacham's."

He pulled his hat on from ease to respectability and followed her down to
the gate. They turned the corner, walking southward toward the valley.
Mrs. Levice and her husband stood at the gate and watched them saunter off.
When they were quite out of sight, Mrs. Levice turned around and sang gayly
to Mr. Levice, "'Ca va bien!'"

The other two walked on silently. The evening was perfect. To the west
and sweeping toward Golden Gate a hazy glory flushed the sky rose-color and
molten gold, purple and silver; and then seas of glinting pale green to the
northward held the eye with their beauty. The air was soft and languorous
after a very warm day; now and then a piano, violin, or mandolin sounded
through open windows; the peace and beauty of rest was over all.

They continued down Van Ness Avenue a few blocks, and unconsciously turned
into one of the dividing streets toward Franklin. Suddenly Arnold felt his
companion start, and saw she had taken her far-off gaze from the landscape.
Following the direction of her eyes, he also straightened up. The
disturbing object was a slight black column attached to a garden fence and
bearing in small gold letters the simple name, Dr. Herbert Kemp.

As they approached nearer, Arnold knew of a certainty that there would be
more speaking signs of the doctor's propinquity. His forecasting was not
at fault.

Dr. Kemp's quaint, dark-red cottage, with its flower-edged lawn, was
reached by a flight of low granite steps, at the top of which lounged the
medical gentleman in person. He was not heaven-gazing, but seemed plunged
in tobacco-inspired meditation of the flowers beneath him. Arnold's quick