ooked away, finding his fascinated gaze a little embarrassing.

The dark man, who in the objectionably competent fashion which, one
felt, characterized all his actions, had just succeeded in lighting
a cigarette in the teeth of a strong breeze, threw away the match and
resumed the conversation, which had presumably been interrupted by the
process of sitting down.

"And how is Scrymgeour?" he inquired.

"Oh, all right," replied the young man with red hair absently. Sally was
looking straight in front of her, but she felt that his eyes were still
busy.

"I was surprised at his being here. He told me he meant to stay in
Paris."

There was a slight pause. Sally gave the attentive poodle a piece of
nougat.

"I say," observed the red-haired young man in clear, penetrating tones
that vibrated with intense feeling, "that's the prettiest girl I've seen
in my life!"

2

At this frank revelation of the red-haired young man's personal
opinions, Sally, though considerably startled, was not displeased. A
broad-minded girl, the outburst seemed to her a legitimate comment on a
matter of public interest. The young man's companion, on the other hand,
was unmixedly shocked.

"My dear fellow!" he ejaculated.

"Oh, it's all right," said the red-haired young man, unmoved. "She can't
understand. There isn't a bally soul in this dashed place that can speak
a word of English. If I didn't happen to remember a few odd bits of
French, I should have starved by this time. That girl," he went on,
returning to the subject most imperatively occupying his mind, "is an
absolute topper! I give you my solemn word I've never seen anybody to
touch her. Look at those hands and feet. You don't get them outside
France. Of course, her mouth is a bit wide," he said reluctantly.

Sally's immobility, added to the other's assurance concerning the
linguistic deficiencies of the inhabitants of Roville, seemed to
reassure the dark man. He breathed again. At no period of his life
had he ever behaved with anything but the most scrupulous correctness
himself, but he had quailed at the idea of being associated even
remotely with incorrectness in another. It had been a black moment for
him when the red-haired young man had uttered those few kind words.

"Still you ought to be careful," he said austerely.

He looked at Sally, who was now dividing her attention between the
poodle and a raffish-looking mongrel, who had joined the party, and
returned t