"I love this old garden," she declared, "although of course it is
really no older than the rest of the place. I always think there should
be peacocks, though."

"Yes," I agreed, "peacocks would be appropriate."

"And little pages dressed in yellow velvet."

She met my glance soberly for a moment and then burst into a peal of
merry laughter.

"Do you know, Miss Beverley," I said, watching her, "I find it hard to
place you in the household of the Colonel."

"Yes?" she said simply; "you must."

"Oh, then you realize that you are--"

"Out of place here?"

"Quite."

"Of course I am."

She smiled, shook her head, and changed the subject.

"I am so glad Mr. Paul Harley has come down," she confessed.

"You know my friend by name, then?"