at was almost pathetic, a touch of sadness.

"That is the one thing we keep alive out of the world I used to
know--roses," she said. "The first roots came from my babyhood home,
and we have grown them here for more than twenty years. Of course
Josephine has shown you our little hot-house?"

"Yes." lied Philip. Then he added, finding her dear eyes resting on him
steadily. "And you have never grown lonesome up here?"

"Never. I am sorry that we ever went back into that other world, even
for a day. This has been paradise. We have always been happy. And you?"
she asked suddenly. "Do you sometimes wish for that other world?"

"I have been out of it four years--with the exception of a short break.
I never want to go back. Josephine has made my paradise, as you have
made another man's."

He fancied, as she turned her face from him, that he heard a little
catch in her breath. But she faced him again quickly.

"We have been happy. No woman in the world has been happier than I. And
you--four years? In that time you have not heard much music. Shall I
play for you?"

She rose and went to the piano without waiting for him to reply. Philip
leaned back and partly closed his eyes as she began to play. The spell
of music held him silent, and neither spoke until Josephine and her
father returned. Philip did not catch the laughing words Adare turned
to his wife. In the door Josephine had stopped. To his surprise she was
dressed in her red coat and hood, and her feet were moccasined. She
made a quick little signal to him.

"I am ready, Philip," she said.

He arose, fearing that his tongue might betray him if he replied to her
in words. Adare came unwittingly to his assistance.

"You'll get used to this before the winter is over, Philip," he
exclaimed banteringly. "Metoosin once called Josephine 'Wapikunoo'--the
White Owl, and the name has stuck ever since. I haven't known Mignonne
to miss a walk on a moonlit winter night since I can remember. But I
prefer my airings in the day. Eh, Miriam?"

"And there is no moon to-night," laughed his wife.

"Hush--but there is Philip!" whispered Adare loudly. "It may be that
our Josephine will prefer the darker nights after this. Can you
remember--"

Josephine was pulling Philip through the door, laughing back over her
shoulder. As soon as they were in the hall she caught his arm excitedly.

"Let us hurry to your room," she urged. "You can dress and slip out
unseen, leaving Jean and me a