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we had a garden for you to sit in, but very soon you’ll be able to go for drives. We’ll go some little expeditions together, Tony—won’t that be fun?”

“Great fun.”

(Really, Tony, don’t look like that! Alison gave herself a shake, and seized upon the balcony again.)

“I’ve always been sorry I didn’t make more use of this little place—I’ve often planned to. It’s so convenient being able to get to it just through the box-room, without disturbing anybody. Do you know what I’ve always wanted to do?—make a little garden here, in boxes, you know. Winthrop only made fun of that idea when I proposed it to him, but I do think we could have a dear little garden up here; lots of things grow beautifully in boxes. Tony, will you help me to make a garden?—when you’re well again, of course. We’ll do it all together, as a surprise for Winthrop. It will be delightful to bring him up here when everything is all a-growing and a-blowing, and say ‘I told you so!’ Shall we?”

Yes, Tony would help her, of course; but not with the conversation, apparently. She tried again, asking him a question or two about his life in New Zealand and his droving days. He was quite loquacious some days, and told her many of his varied adventures, but not to-day. He was not inclined to talk, evidently, though he looked more content than she had seen him yet.

Tony did not want to talk; it was enough to lie there, watching Alison’s sweet, changing face, enfolded in peace such as he had never known before. He felt soothed and quieted all over. She had said that no man was much good unless he had some kind of softness in him. . . . She made him soft—but very strong and tender too, somehow. He felt as if he could take care of her, and . . . Well, that was absurd, of course, but———

Alison’s voice interrupted him.