t to call for harsh comments. It was so delightful
to be winning every day at roulette, and spending the easily gained
money in amusing ways, that Mary thought every one who came near her
must be almost as much pleased with her luck as she was--all but the one
man who had snubbed her, the man whose name she had not heard, but who,
she had been told by her devoted waiter, was a Roman prince. He
disapproved of or disliked her, she did not know which, or why; and
because he kept the table near hers in the restaurant his look, which
was sometimes like a vehement reproach, always depressed her, bringing a
cold sense of failure where all might have been joy. The thought of this
stranger's disapproval was the fly in her amber; and the idea floated
through her mind sometimes that they might have known each other in a
forgotten state of existence. When their eyes met, it was as if there
were a common memory between them, something that had happened long ago,
drawing them together.

Days passed, and Vanno's project which concerned Mary and the cure was
still in abeyance, for the priest was not free yet to leave Roquebrune.
The man whose death was daily expected had not died, and the cure spent
as much time with him as could be spared from other duties. But Vanno
Della Robbia was not the only one who sought the services of a friend in
order to "help" Mary.

One afternoon at the end of the Nice aviation week Dick Carleton ran up
three flights of marble stairs in a huge square house on the left or
seaward side of the Boulevard d'Italie at Monte Carlo. It was a building
given up to flats, and the corridors were almost depressingly clean and
cold looking, with their white floors and stairways of crude, cheap
marble, and their white walls glittering with the washable paint called
"Ripolin." On each etage were two white doors with openwork panels of
iron over glass, which in most cases showed curtains on the other side.
The door before which Carleton stopped on the third floor had a
semi-transparent rose-coloured curtain; and just above the bell push was
neatly tacked a visiting card with the name "Reverend George Winter"
engraved upon it.

Carleton had never met the new incumbent of St. Cyprian's, but the
chaplain had lately married an American girl, Dick's cousin. This was
the first time that Carleton had found a chance to call, although he had
been staying with Schuyler for over a fortnight. He felt rather guilty
and doubtful of h