Jane held a book on her knee, but she was not reading.

She was looking away to the distant woods beyond the lake; then to the pearly sky above, flecked with rosy clouds and streaked with gleams of gold; and a sense of content, and gladness, and well-being, filled her.
Presently she heard a light step on the gravel below and leaned forward to see to whom it belonged.

Garth had come out of the smoking-room and walked briskly to and fro, once or twice.

Then he threw himself into a wicker seat just beneath her window, and sat there, smoking meditatively.

The fragrance of his cigarette reached Jane, up among the magnolia blossoms.