owler hat, some caps, and a soft
Panama straw.

'And you said you had no others!' I grumbled at him.

'Well, which is it to be?' he demanded.

'This, of course,' I said, taking the bowler. I reached up, removed the
straw hat from his head, and put the bowler in its place. 'There!' I
exclaimed, satisfied, giving the bowler a pat--there!'

He laughed, immensely content, enraptured, foolishly blissful. We were
indeed happy. Before opening the door leading to the corridor we stopped
and kissed.

On the seaward terrace of the vast, pale, floriated Casino, so
impressive in its glittering vulgarity, like the bride-cake of a
stockbroker's wedding, we strolled about among a multifarious crowd,
immersed in ourselves. We shared a contempt for the architecture, the
glaring flower-beds, and the false distinction of the crowd, and an
enthusiasm for the sunshine and the hills and the sea, and whatever else
had escaped the hands of the Casino administration. We talked lightly
and freely. Care seemed to be leaving us; we had no preoccupations save
those which were connected with our passion. Then I saw, standing in an
attitude of attention, the famous body-servant of Lord Francis Alcar,
and I knew that Lord Francis could not be far away. We spoke to the
valet; he pointed out his master, seated at the front of the terrace,
and told us, in a discreet, pained, respectful voice, that our venerable
friend had been mysteriously unwell at Monte Carlo, and was now taking
the air for the first time in ten days. I determined that we should go
boldly and speak to him.

'Lord Francis,' I said gently, after we had stood some seconds by his
chair, unremarked.

He was staring fixedly at the distance of the sea. He looked amazingly
older than when I had last talked with him. His figure was shrunken, and
his face rose thin and white out of a heavy fur overcoat and a large blue
muffler. In his eyes there was such a sadness, such an infinite regret,
such a profound weariness as can only be seen in the eyes of the senile.
He was utterly changed.

'Lord Francis,' I repeated, 'don't you know me?'

He started slightly and looked at me, and a faint gleam appeared in his
eyes. Then he nodded, and took a thin, fragile alabaster hand out of
the pocket of his overcoat. I shook it. It was like shaking hands with
a dead, starved child. He carefully moved the skin and bone back into
his pocket.

'Are you pretty well?' I said.

He nodded. Then the faint