reproductions of famous pictures. Meisonnier seemed in high
favour, while Sir Joshua's Nellie O'Brien surveyed the salon with
her quiet, steady gaze. A great bowl of fresh flowers stood on
the grand piano.

The girl herself was sitting half on the edge of an old
gate-table in the middle of the room. The toe of one rosy
slipper touched the polished boards, and her other foot swung
gently to and fro. One of her short sleeves she had pushed up to
the shoulder and was looking critically at a scratch, which
showed red, high up on her round, white arm. A simple evening
frock of old-rose colour, dainty old gold slippers to keep her
feet. Her skin was wonderfully white, her hair dark and brown.
This was cut straight across her forehead in French fashion, and
then brought down and away over the ears. Her face was towards
me, as she examined her arm. I could see she was very pretty.

"Don't you think you ought to apologize?" she said suddenly.

Her words took me by surprise. For a moment I did not answer.

"Eh?" she said, looking up.

"Yes," I said, "I do. Fact is, I haven't any, and the gardens
are all shut now."

"Any what? "she said, letting the sleeve slip back into its
place.

"Garlands, Silvia."