"Yes, that is so," said Frank, obviously pleased by the remark. Then,
after a pause, "Mount Rorke is a pretty place, and I don't think I
could live long away from it. After a time I always find myself
sighing for the bleakness and barrenness of the West. The hedgerows of
England are pretty enough; but I hate the brick buildings."

"What kind of buildings do you have in Ireland?"

"Everything is built of grey stone, a cold grey tint on a background
of green pasture lands and blue mountains. I daresay you wouldn't like
it. It would recall nothing to you, but when I think of it, much less
see it, I re-live my childhood all over again. I am a great person for
old times. That is the reason I like coming down here. I knew you all
so long ago; how well I can remember you--three dark little things.
You used to sit on my knee."

"And do you find nothing nice in the present?"

"Of course I do; it is nice to walk in the garden with you, but it
seems to me you have all moved away from me a little. Grace is
engaged, you are engaged--"

"Who said I was engaged?"

"Ha, ha, you see I hear everything. What is his name--Alfred?"

"I suppose Sally told you."

"I won't tell you who told me, I never betray secrets. You had a
desperate flirtation two years ago, and the man had to go away, and