fearful, but she knew that Royal would seek her, and she hoped
much for the talk that they were to have now. She did not refuse
him her hand when he came to the tea table, or her eyes, and there
was friendliness, or the semblance of it, in the voice with which
she said his name. That he was waiting, perhaps as fearfully as
she, for his cue, was evidenced by the quick relief with which he
echoed the old familiarity.

"Harriet! I find you again. I've been waiting all this time to
find you! I'd heard Ward speak of 'Miss Field', of course! But it
never meant you, to me. I've been thinking of you all night."

"I've been thinking, too," she said, simply.

"It's after six," Blondin said with a glance about. "We can't talk
here. Can you get away? Can we go somewhere?"

Without another word she deserted her seat, pinned on her hat, and
picked up her gloves.

"There's a very quiet back road straight to Crownlands," she said,
considering. "We might walk."

"Anything!" he assented, briefly.

Guided by Harriet, who was familiar with the place, they slipped
through the hallway, and out a side door, crossing the lane that
led down to the garage, and striking into a splendid old quiet
roadway barred now by the shadows of elms and sycamores and
maples, and filled with soft green lights from the thick arch of