principle."

"It's very clever," Alice murmured.

"Not at all. A little application will do wonders. A certain definite
colour massed here, another definite colour there, and so forth."

Mr. Crewe spoke as though Alice's praise irritated him slightly. He waved
his hand to indicate the scheme in general, and glanced at Victoria on
the stone bench. From her (Austen thought) seemed to emanate a silent but
mirthful criticism, although she continued to gaze persistently down the
valley, apparently unaware of their voices. Mr. Crewe looked as if he
would have liked to reach her, but the two ladies filled the narrow path,
and Mrs. Pomfret put her fingers on his sleeve.

"Humphrey, you must explain it to us. I am so interested in gardens I'm
going to have one if Electrics increase their dividend."

Mr. Crewe began, with no great ardour, to descant on the theory of
planting, and Austen resolved to remain pocketed and ignored no longer.
He retraced his steps and made his way rapidly by another path towards
Victoria, who turned her head at his approach, and rose. He acknowledged
an inward agitation with the vision in his eye of the tall, white figure
against the pines, clad with the art which, in mysterious simplicity,
effaces itself.

"I was wondering," she said, as she gave him her hand, "how long it would
be before you spoke to me."

"You gave me no chance," said Austen, quickly.

"Do you deserve one?" she asked.

Before he could answer, Mr. Crewe's explanation of his theories had come
lamely to a halt. Austen was aware of the renewed scrutiny of Mrs.
Pomfret, and then Mr. Crewe, whom no social manacles could shackle, had
broken past her and made his way to them. He continued to treat the
ground on which Austen was standing as unoccupied.

"Hello, Victoria," he said, "you don't know anything about gardens, do
you?"

"I don't believe you do either," was Victoria's surprising reply.

Mr. Crewe laughed at this pleasantry.

"How are you going to prove it?" he demanded.

"By comparing what you've done with Freddie Ridley's original plan," said
Victoria.

Mr. Crewe was nettled.

"Ridley has a lot to learn," he retorted. "He had no conception of what
was appropriate here."

"Freddie was weak," said Victoria, but he needed the money. Don't you
know Mr. Vane?"

"Yes," said Mr. Crewe, shortly, "I've been talking to him--on business."

"Oh," said Victoria, "I had no means of knowing. Mrs. Pomfret, I want to
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