“Now go on,” she commanded, after a moment.  “Tell me what he looks like.”

Sara laughed and plunged into a description of Garth’s personal appearance.

“And he’s got queer eyes—­tawny-coloured like a dog’s,” she wound up, “with a quaint little patch of blue close to each of the pupils.”

Elisabeth leaned forward, and beneath the soft laces of her gown the rise and fall of her breast quickened perceptibly.

“Patches of blue?” she repeated.

“Yes—­it sounds as though the colours had run, doesn’t it?” pursued Sara, laughing a little.  “But it’s really rather effective.”

“And did you say his name was Trent—­Garth Trent?” asked Elisabeth.  She had gone a little grey about the mouth, and she moistened her lips with her tongue before speaking.  There was a tone of incredulity in her voice.

“Yes.  It’s not a beautiful name, is it?” smiled Sara.

“It’s rather a curious one,” agreed Elisabeth with an effort.  “I’m really quite longing to meet this odd man with the patchwork eyes and the funny name.”

“You shall see him to-day,” Sara promised.  “Audrey Maynard is giving a picnic in Haven Woods, and Garth will be there.  You will come with us, won’t you?”

“I think I must,” replied Elisabeth.  “Although”—­negligently—­“picnics are not much in my line.”

“Oh, Audrey’s picnics aren’t like other people’s,” rejoined Sara reassuringly.  “She runs them just as she runs everything else, on lines of combined perfection and informality!  The lunch will be the production of a French chef, and the company a few carefully selected intimates.”

“Very well, I’ll come—­if you’re sure Mrs. Maynard won’t object to the introduction of a complete stranger.”

Sara regarded her affectionately.

“Have you ever met any one who ‘objected’ to you yet?” she asked with some amusement.

Elisabeth made no answer.  Instead, she pointed to the Monk’s Cliff, where the grey stone of Far End gleamed in the sunlight against its dark background of trees.

“Who lives there?” she asked.  Sara’s eyes followed the direction of her hand, and she smiled.

“I’m going to live there,” she answered.  “That’s Garth’s home.”

“Oh-h!” Elisabeth drew a quick breath.  “It’s a grim-looking place,” she added, after a moment.  “Rather lonely, I should imagine.”

“Garth is fond of solitude,” replied Sara simply, and she missed the swift, searching glance instantly leveled at her by the hyacinth eyes.

When at length she took her departure, it was with a promise to return later on with Molly and Dr. Selwyn, so that they could all four walk out to Haven Woods together—­since the doctor had undertaken to get through his morning’s rounds in time to join the picnicking party.

Elisabeth accompanied her visitor to the head of the stairs, and then, returning to her room, stepped out on to the balcony once more.  For a long time she stood leaning against the balustrade, gazing thoughtfully across the bay to that lonely house on the slope of the cliff.