But somewhere in this paradise of flowers and song birds, of music and
dance, of rustling silk, of youth and beauty, the Ghost of Slavery
crouched.

In a quiet way he would watch for it to walk. He had to summon all his
pride of Section and training in the catch words of the North to keep
from falling under the charm of the beautiful life he felt enfolding
him.

He no longer wondered why every Northern man who moved South forgot
the philosophy of the Snows and became a child of the Sun. He felt the
subtle charm of it stealing into his heart and threw off the spell with
an effort.

A sparrow chirped under the window. A redbird flashed from a rosebush
and a mocking bird from a huge magnolia began to softly sing his morning
love song to his mate.

He heard a yawn, turned and saw Custis rubbing his eyes.

"For heaven's sake, Phil, why don't you sleep?"

"Tried and can't."

"Don't like your bed?"

"Too much excited."

"One of those girls hooked you?"