CHAPTER XI.
Captain Greshan sprang forward to lift the flowers which Miss L'Estrange had dropped.
"Nay," she said, "never mind them.

A fresh flower is very nice.

A flower that has once been in the dust has lost its beauty." There was no trace of pain in the clear voice; it was rich and musical.
Philippa L'Estrange, seated in the bright sunshine, heard the words that were to her a death-warrant, yet made no sign.

"I have not yet met with my ideal," Lord Arleigh had said.
Captain Gresham picked up some of the fallen flowers.
"A dead flower from your hand, Miss L'Estrange," he observed "is worth a whole gardenful of living ones from any one else." She laughed again that sweet musical laugh which seemed to come only from a happy heart; and then she looked round.

The Duchess of Aytoun and Lord Arleigh were still in deep converse.