sighed, "perhaps it will be the easiest way of getting rid
of you."

She motioned him to follow her. The butler, from a discreet distance,
watched her as though he were looking at a strange thing. Round the
corner of the villa remote from the winter-garden, was a long stone
terrace upon which many windows opened. Screened from the wind, the sun
here was of almost midsummer strength. There was no sound. The great
house seemed asleep. There was nothing but the droning of a few insects.
Even the birds were songless. The walls were covered with drooping
clematis and roses, roses that twined over the balustrades. Below them
was a tangle of mimosa trees and rhododendrons, and further below still
the blue Mediterranean. She sank into a chair.

"You may sit here," she said, "just long enough for me to convince you
that your coming was a mistake. Indeed that is so. I do not wish to seem
foolish or unkind, but my father and I are living here with one
unbreakable rule, and that is that we make no acquaintances whatsoever."

"That sounds rather queer," he remarked. "Don't you find it dull?"

"If I do," she went on, "it is only for a little time. My father is here
for a certain purpose, and as soon as that is accomplished we shall go
away. For him to accomplish that purpose in a satisfactory manner, it is
necessary that we should live as far apart as possible from the ordinary
visitors here."

"Sounds like a riddle," he admitted. "Do you mind telling me of what
nationality you are?"

"I see no reason why I should tell you anything."

"You speak such correct English," he continued, "but there is just a
little touch of accent. You don't know how attractive it sounds. You
don't know--"

He hesitated, suddenly losing some part of his immense confidence.

"What else is there that I do not know?" she asked, with a faintly
amused smile.

"I have lost my courage," he confessed simply. "I do not want to offend
you, I do not want you to think that I am hopelessly foolish, but you
see I have the misfortune to be in love with you."

She laughed at him, leaning back in her chair with half-closed eyes.

"Do people talk like this to casual acquaintances in your country?" she
asked.

"They speak sometimes a language which is common to all countries," he
replied quickly. "The only thing that is peculiar to my people is that
when we say it, it is the sober and the solemn truth."

She was silent for a moment. She had plucked one of t