and even have I seen the sheer sensuous pleasure of the Little Lady with bathing her arms and neck in the blessed sun.”

“She is the soul of beauty,” Leo murmured. “One understands how men can die for women such as she.”

“And how men can live for them, and love them, the lovely things,” Terrence added. “Listen, Mr. Graham, and I’ll tell you a secret. We philosophers of the madro�o grove, we wrecks and wastages of life here in the quiet backwater and easement of Dick’s munificence, are a brotherhood of lovers. And the lady of our hearts is all the one — the Little Lady. We, who merely talk and dream our days away, and who would lift never a hand for God, or country, or the devil, are pledged knights of the Little Lady.”