about it almost as bright as the rooms. He stepped up on the piazza and looked in at the swaying couples. Lady Jane, beautiful in pale blue mull, drifted by in her young host’s arms. She was flushed with dancing; her hair had escaped from its usual calm. He hardly recognized her. As he looked out toward the old garden, he caught a glimpse of a flowing white gown, a lace scarf thrown over a head whose fine poise he could not mistake.
A young man passed him with a filmy crêpe shawl he knew well. The colonel stepped along with him.
“You are taking this to Mrs. Leroy?”
“Yes, colonel, she feels the air a little.”
“Let me relieve you of it,” and he walked alone into the garden with the softly scented cobweb over his arm.
She was standing in an old neglected summer-house, her back to the door. As he stopped behind her and laid the soft wrap over her firm white shoulders,
