But it did not; and he was about to take up his book, once more, when Czar arose, stretched himself, stood for a moment in a picturesque, listening attitude, then trotted off among the roses; leaving the novelist with an odd feeling of uneasy expectancy--half resolved to stay, half determined to go.

The thought of Louise in the house decided him, and he kept his place, hidden as he was, in the corner--a whimsical smile hovering over his world-lined features as though, after all, he felt himself entering upon some enjoyable adventure.
Presently, he heard indistinctly, somewhere in the other end of the garden, a low murmuring voice.

As it came nearer, the man's smile grew more pronounced It was a wonderfully attractive voice, clear and full in its pure-toned sweetness.

The unseen speaker was talking to the novelist's dog.

The smile on the man's face was still more pronounced, as he whispered to himself, "The rascal! So this is what he has been up to!" Rising quietly to his knees, he peered through the flower-laden bushes.
A young woman of rare and exquisite beauty was moving about the garden--bending over the roses, and talking in low tones to Czar, who--to his hidden master--appeared to appreciate fully the favor of his gentle companion's intimacy.