Was young Lennan all right? Yes, he was perfectly all right--would be
down directly! It was most frightfully good of Mr. Stormer to come! He
really didn't want anything.

Yes, yes; but the maimed and the halt must be attended to!

His face seemed to the boy very kind just then--only to laugh at him a
very little--just enough. And it was awfully decent of him to have come,
and to stand there while he drank the tea. He was really all right, but
for a little headache. Many times while he was dressing he stood still,
trying to remember. That white slip of moonlight? Was it moonlight?
Was it part of a dream; or was it, could it have been she, in her
moonlight-coloured frock? Why had he not stayed awake? He would not dare
to ask her, and now would never know whether the vague memory of warmth
on his brow had been a kiss.

He breakfasted alone in the room where they had danced. There were two
letters for him. One from his guardian enclosing money, and complaining
of the shyness of the trout; the other from his sister. The man she
was engaged to--he was a budding diplomat, attached to the Embassy at
Rome--was afraid that his leave was going to be curtailed. They would
have to be married at once. They might even have to get a special
licence. It was lucky Mark was coming back so soon. They simply MUST
have him for best man. The only bridesmaid now would be Sylvia....
Sylvia Doone? Why, she was only a kid! And the memory of a little girl
in a very short holland frock, with flaxen hair, pretty blue eyes, and
a face so fair that you could almost see through it, came up before
him. But that, of course, was six years ago; she would not still be in
a frock that showed her knees, or wear beads, or be afraid of bulls that