crystal drop, and through the thin veil of mist clinging to the shrubbery
a clump of azaleas glowed like a crimson flame. Taking a path to the
left, Nancy began the gentle and almost imperceptible descent to the
little bridge. The air was filled with the perfume of wild roses and late
plum blossoms. It was really a fairy land, this Japan; a place too
exquisite and unreal for human beings to live in. She began to sing
softly to herself Elinor's favorite song:

"'Know'st thou the land of the citron bloom?'"

As she approached the bridge she felt a little frightened for some
reason. It was rather reckless of her to come down to this lonely place
in the late afternoon even if it was their own premises. It was the first
time she had done it and she decided it would be the last. But as long as
she had come, she would see it through. Nancy could hardly explain to
herself what she meant by "seeing it through."

She would stroll carelessly down the path, walk across the bridge, pause
a moment and walk back again, not looking behind her of course, as, if
she were observed, and she was sure she was not, she would pretend she
was out for a walk and had not expected to meet anyone. Thus Nancy
reasoned with herself, but by the time she had reached the bridge she had
changed her mind and was about to turn and hasten back, when she noticed
a beautiful tea rose that had been laid conspicuously on the hand rail of
the bridge.

"He has been here," she thought. "He must have just gone. The rose is
quite fresh."

Sticking its long stem through the buttonhole of her raincoat, she