She burst into a low laugh when she saw it.
"Look at that," she said. "That is one of the finest houses in the country. The man who owns it is counted a rich man among his neighbors."
Ferrol put up his eye-glasses to examine it. (It is to be deplored that he was a trifle near-sighted.)
"By George!" he said. "That is an idea, isn't it, that marble business! I wonder who did it? Do you know the man who lives there?"
"I have heard of him," she answered, "from several people. He is a namesake of mine. His name is Rogers."
When they returned to their carriage, after a ramble up the mountain-side, they became conscious that the sky had suddenly darkened. Ferrol looked up, and his face assumed a rather serious expression.
"If either of you is weather-wise," he said, "I wish you would tell me what that cloud means. You have been among the mountains longer than I have."
Louisiana glanced upward quickly.
"It means a storm," she said, "and a heavy one. We shall be drenched in half an hour."
Ferrol looked at her white dress and the little frilled fichu, which was her sole protection.