"When did he come?"
"About two hours ago, I should say. You didn't see him because he did not come to the house; I met him in—in the green studio, of course; I gave him another sitting."
"Then you expected him?" said Margaret, looking at her.
"Yes; we made the arrangement in the only instant you gave us yesterday—when you went to hang your wreath on that old tomb."
"Why was it necessary to be so secret about it? Am I such an ogre?"
"No; you're a fairy godmother. But you would have objected to it, and spoiled it all beforehand; you know you would," said Garda, with gay accusation.
Margaret's eyes were following the little inequalities of the ground before them as they advanced.
"Perhaps you could have brought me round," she answered. "At any rate, you must admit me to the next sitting."
"No, that I cannot do, Margaret; so don't ask me. I love to be with you, and I love to be with Lucian. But I don't love to be with you two together—you watch him so."
"I—watch Mr. Spenser? Oh no!"