usly.

"It is becoming more interesting each day," was his reply.

"I am very glad," said Olive. "Perhaps you felt the place rather strange
at first, and now, as you find congenial acquaintances, you feel, as we
English say, 'more at home.'"

"Yes, I am making acquaintances. This morning, for example, I have
enlarged the circle, and I found Mr. Sprague and Mr. Purvis very
interesting."

"Whom did you say?" asked Olive quickly.

"Mr. Sprague and Mr. Purvis," said Ricordo, emphasising their names just
as a foreigner might do. "Ah, you know them? I think they are coming
this way."

"I must get back, Mr. Briarfield," said Olive quickly. "Father is
expecting me to lunch."

"I will walk back with you," said Briarfield.

"And I, too, if I may," said Ricordo.

"You are not playing this afternoon?" said Briarfield.

"No, I think I am lazy, or perhaps I am getting old. We Easterns, you
know, love to sit in the sun rather than exercise in it. Not that I feel
tired. The air here gives one vigour. Ah, Miss Castlemaine, you were a
benefactress to the tired part of the people of your country when you
built your homestead."

"Only to a small degree, I am afraid," replied Olive. "It is only the
few who can take advantage of it."

"Ah, but if all, situated as you are, would do likewise----" remarked
Ricordo. "But there, I must not complain, I am one of the few. Besides,
I have more than my deserts. I have not been regarded as an alien. Ah,
you must be very trustful to take a stranger in without asking
questions."

"Miss Castlemaine is no respecter of nationalities," interposed Herbert
Briarfield.

"Ah, no, to be poor, to be tired--that is enough. But Mr. Sprague and
Mr. Purvis, whom I played the golf with, they did not look either poor
or tired. But perhaps they know you--they spoke as though they did."

Olive did not reply, neither did she meet the eyes of Ricordo, which
were lifted to her face. She wondered whether they had told this man
anything of the past.

"And you like Vale Linden?" she asked presently, in order to break the
silence.

"It is the Garden of Eden," replied Ricordo; "yes, the Garden of Eden
before the serpent brought trouble."

She wanted to speak in reply; but nothing came to her to say. She felt
that Herbert Briarfield was right. The man suggested mystery; she was
not sure that he had favourably impressed her, and yet there was a kind
of fascination in his presence.

"You know England?" sh