Armitage followed a side road along the
brick partition wall and contemplated the inner landscape. The sharp snap
of a gardener's shears far up the slope was the only sound that reached
him. It was a charming place, and he yielded to a temptation to explore
it. He dropped over the wall and strolled away through the garden, the
smell of warm earth, moist from the day's light showers, and the faint
odor of green things growing, sweet in his nostrils. He walked to the far
end of the pergola, sat down on a wooden bench, and gave himself up to
reverie. He had been denounced as an impostor; he was on Claiborne soil;
and the situation required thought.
It was while he thus pondered his affairs that Shirley, walking over the
soft lawn from a neighboring estate, came suddenly upon him.
Her head went up with surprise and--he was sure--with disdain. She
stopped abruptly as he jumped to his feet.
"I am caught--_in flagrante delicto_! I can only plead guilty and pray
for mercy."
"They said--they said you had gone to Mexico?" said Shirley
questioningly.
"Plague take the newspapers! How dare they so misrepresent me!" he
laughed.
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