L'ENVOI.
In the early October days Newport is still fair with a beauty tinged with sadness; the prime of the year is past. In the long crescent corridor of the Casino there is nothing of that gay throng of people we first saw there. Where hundreds were wont to sit and stare, walk and chat, only a dozen or two persons are to be seen scattered about. Among these few "late" people we recognize some faces on this October morning, whose acquaintance we first made in the merry month of August.
Mrs. Fallow-Deer, in the latest of Donovan's imported costumes, and Mrs. Craig, fresh as a rosebud, are sitting together, occupied for the moment in watching two people who are walking across the green that leads to the racket court. We can only see their backs, but that carriage of the head could belong to no one but Gladys Carleton— we beg her pardon—Farwell, and the light
