To the right of the tennis court was a well arranged flower garden, criss-crossed by white paths, an ornate summer-house in its centre, completely concealed by vines.

Beyond this, conspicuous against the green back-ground, West caught the flutter of a white skirt, realizing instantly that, early as the hour was, Natalie Coolidge was already up and about.

He wondered if her presence might not be an invitation for him?
Perhaps she had deliberately chosen this early hour, before the others awoke, to explain her strange conduct of the previous evening?
At least, here was an opportunity to see and talk with her alone.
He dressed swiftly, and slipped noiselessly down-stairs, unlocking the front door, and emerging into the fresh air, without encountering any stray members of the household.

Not even a servant was visible.

He passed beyond the vine draped arbour before she realized his approach, and straightened up, a freshly cut rose in one gloved hand, the pruning shears in the other, welcoming him with a little laugh, her eyes full of demure mischief.
"I rather suspected army discipline had not entirely worn off," she said pleasantly, "and that you might still prove to be an early riser." "And does this expectation account for your presence ?" "Not wholly; it has become a habit with me.