Scarcely had she alighted from the car at the rendezvous he had
mentioned, beside the now deserted boathouse where in the warm weather
the members of the Hampton Rowing Club disported themselves, when she saw
an automobile approaching--and recognized it as the gay "roadster" Ditmar
had exhibited to her that summer afternoon by the canal; and immediately
Ditmar himself, bringing it to a stop and leaping from it, stood before
her in the sunlight, radiating, as it seemed, more sunlight still. With
his clipped, blond moustache and his straw-coloured hair--as yet but
slightly grey at the temples--he looked a veritable conquering berserker
in his huge coat of golden fur. Never had he appeared to better
advantage.

"I was waiting for you," he said, "I saw you in the car." Turning to the
automobile, he stripped the tissue paper from a cluster of dark red roses
with the priceless long stems of which Lise used to rave when she worked
in the flower store. And he held the flowers against her suit her new
suit she had worn for this meeting.

"Oh," she cried, taking a deep, intoxicating breath of their fragrance.
"You brought these--for me?"

"From Boston--my beauty!"

"But I can't wear all of them!"

"Why not?" he demanded. "Haven't you a pin?"

She produced one, attaching them with a gesture that seemed habitual,
though the thought of their value-revealing in some degree her own worth