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"Do you admire our hair? And we are all so heartily tired of it," says the duchess. "Well, tell me more about your own land. Are the women all like you? In style, I mean. I have seen a few, of course, but not enough to describe a whole.",

"Yes, they do indeed, a great deal; at least I have heard so.",

It is early morn. "The first low breath of waking day stirs the wide air." On bush and tree and opening flower the dew lies heavily, like diamonds glistening in the light of the round sun. Thin clouds of pearly haze float slowly o'er the sky to meet its rays; and,

"How strange!" says Mona. "But how then did you manage?"

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"It was only a little touch of nature," explains her Grace. "On that congratulate yourself. Nature is at a discount these days. And I—I love nature. It is so rare, a veritable philosopher's stone. You only told me what my glass tells me daily,—that I am not so young as I once was,—that, in fact, when sitting next pretty children like you, I am quite old.",

Mona takes no notice of his words, but still stands by the table, with her hands folded, her long white robes clinging to her, her eyes lowered, her whole demeanor like that of some mediæval saint. So thinks Rodney, who is gazing at her as though he would forever imprint upon his brain the remembrance of a vision as pure as it is perfect.,

Here and there are basins of water on which lilies can lie and sleep dreamily through a warm and sunny day. A sundial, old and green with honorable age, uprears itself upon a chilly bit of sward. Near it lie two gaudy peacocks sound asleep. All seems far from the world, drowsy, careless, indifferent to the weals and woes of suffering humanity.,

"Yes, quite so: that is exactly what I meant," returns he, agreeably. It was not what he meant; but that doesn't count. "How awfully clever you are," he says, presently, alluding to her management of the little pats, which, to say truth, are faring but ill at her hands.