to be done in his lens-house before he could go on with the great
work of his life was not yet finished.

As well as he could judge, it would be a month or two before he
could devote himself to those labors in his lens-house the
thought of which had so long filled his mind by day, and even
during his sleep.




CHAPTER III

MARGARET RALEIGH

After breakfast the-following morning Roland Clewe mounted his
horse and rode over to a handsome house which stood upon a hill
about a mile and a half from Sardis. Horses, which had almost
gone out of use during the first third of the century, were now
getting to be somewhat in fashion again. Many people now
appreciated the pleasure which these animals had given to the
world since the beginning of history, and whose place, in an
aesthetic sense, no inanimate machine could supply. As Roland
Clewe swung himself from the saddle at the foot of a broad flight
of steps, the house door was opened and a lady appeared.

"I saw you coming!" she exclaimed, running down the steps to meet
him.

She was a handsome woman, inclined to be tall, and some five