sweeping down from the mountains, and then to the exquisite abandon of her exultant dancing in the first rays of the morning sun. When he recalled this, leaning back in his big Morris chair in the starlight, his feet on the rail of the lanai and his cigar smoke wavering off over the valley, he did not indulge in any swearing.
On the second day, he went to town and selected and dispatched to her a new steamer chair to take the place of the lost life raft, and also some slender stemmed amber colored roses with delicate apricot shadings, which someway reminded him of the sunlight upon her skin; but he forbore to add anything more than his name to the cards accompanying the packages. He was in no way surprised when the offerings brought no response. He had expected none.
On the third day, however, he began to concoct letters to her. Letters of apology, letters of explanation, all sorts of letters; but not one which could be formulated, could in any manner explain away the bitter hurt which he had planted in her soul when he told her so inadvertently of the jeering epithet which the world was applying to her and to some unknown person who must be living with her. A letter was impossible and he abandoned the effort. Of course he now had natural curiosity concerning his neighbors, but although it was evident that Moto knew something of them, yet
