"Yes," she said, none too cordially. "Our orange groves are
there. Why do you ask?"

"Only," he replied, "because where there are large citrus
groves on one side of a house and fairly big vegetable gardens
on the other, it means the need for a good bit of labor. And
that may mean a chance for a job. Or it may not. You'll pardon
my suggesting it.

"My brother needs no more labor," she replied. "At least, I
am quite certain he doesn't. In fact, he has more men working
here now than he actually needs. I--I've heard him say so.
Of course, I'll be glad to ask him, when he comes back from
town. And if you'd care to leave your address--"

"Gladly," said Brice. "Any letter addressed to me, as 'Gavin
Brice, in care of Traveler Tree, rear gardens of Royal Palm
Hotel,' will reach me. Unless, of course, the night watchmen
chance to root me out. In that case, I'll leave word with
them where mail may be forwarded. In the meantime, it's
getting pretty dark, and I don't know this part of Dade County
as well as I'd like to. So I'll be starting on. If you don't
mind, I'll cross your lawn, and take the main road. It's
easier going, at night than by way of the mangrove swamp and
the beach. Good night, Miss--"

"Wait!" she interposed, worry creeping into her sweet voice.
"I--I can't let you go like this. Do you really mean you have
to sleep out of doors and that you have no money? I don't
want to be impertinent, but--"