f a
wonderful new independence.

The sunshine made her feel energetic, and full of courage and
enterprise, which had been crushed out of her in London by the chilly
manner of her relatives, and the weight of the black fog.

Passing through the station, after having part of her ticket torn from
its book, she reached the front of the building, where a great many
hotel omnibuses and a few private motors were in waiting. A station
porter was following her now, with the one dressing-bag which remained
of her abandoned luggage. "Quel hotel, Mademoiselle?" he inquired.

Mary hesitated, her eyes roaming over the omnibuses. One was
conspicuous, drawn by four splendid horses, driven by a big man with a
shining conical hat, and a wide expanse of scarlet waistcoat.

No other omnibus looked quite so important. On it, in gold letters, Mary
read "Hotel de Paris." The name sounded vaguely familiar. Where had she
lately heard this hotel mentioned! Oh, yes! by Miss Wardropp.

"Hotel de Paris, s'il vous plait," she answered.

In another moment her bag was in the omnibus, and she was climbing in
after it in the wake of other persons, enough to fill the roomy vehicle.
As she settled into her corner she saw a man walk slowly by at a
distance. He was not looking at her for the moment, and she had no more
than a glimpse of a dark, clearly drawn profile; yet she received a
curious impression that he had just turned away from looking at her; and
she was almost sure it was the man she had noticed at Marseilles. Now
her Romeo idea of him struck her as sentimental. She wondered why she
had connected such a thought with a man in modern clothes, in a noisy
railway station. The morning and its impressions seemed long ago. She
felt older and more experienced, almost like a woman of the world, as
the big horses trotted up a hill, leaving all the other omnibuses
behind. From under the large hat of a large German lady, she peered
eagerly, to lose no detail in approaching Monte Carlo.

High at the right rose a terrace like a hanging garden, attached to a
huge white hotel. In front of the building, and also very high, ran a
long covered gallery where there appeared to be restaurants and shops.
At the left were gardens; and then in a moment more, coming out into an
open square, all Monte Carlo seemed made of gardens with extraordinary,
ornate white buildings in their midst, sugar-cake buildings made for
pleasure and amusement, all glass windows and pl