time to time," added the banker, who, having
received permission to smoke a cigar, was endeavouring to extract a
penknife from his waistcoat pocket.

"Who talks French with the understanding of an Englishman," said
Lucille, quickly.

"You do not like Englishmen?"

"I like honest ones, Monsieur," said Lucille, looking across the sea.

"Ah!"

"Oh, yes--I know," cried Lucille, impatiently. "You are one of Mr.
Howard's partisans. They are so numerous and so ready to speak for
him--and he will never speak for himself."

"Then," said John Turner, smoking placidly, "let us agree to differ on
that point."

But Lucille had no such intention.

"Does Mr. Howard ask you--you and mother, and sometimes Alphonse--to
fight his battles for him and to sing his praises to me?"

Turner did not answer at once.

"Well?" she inquired, impatiently.

"I was just thinking how long it is since Dick Howard mentioned your
name to me--about three months, I believe."

Lucille walked on with her head erect.

"What have you against him?" asked Turner, after a short silence.

"It was from your house that Mr. Howard came to us. He came to my
father assuring him that he was poor, which he told me afterwards was
only a subterfuge and false pretence. I then learnt from Mr. Gayerson
that this was not the truth. I suppose Mr. Howard thought that a
woman's affection is to be bought by gold."

"All that can be explained, Mademoiselle."

"Then explain it, Monsieur."

"Let Howard do it," said Turner, pausing to knock the ash from his
cigar.

"I do not care for Mr. Howard's explanations," said Lucille, coldly.
"One never knows what to believe. Is he rich or poor?"

[Illustration: "I WAS JUST THINKING HOW LONG IT IS SINCE DICK HOWARD
MENTIONED YOUR NAME TO ME--ABOUT THREE MONTHS, I BELIEVE." LUCILLE
WALKED ON WITH HER HEAD ERECT.]

"He is which he likes."

Lucille gave a scornful laugh.

"He could be rich to-morrow if he would do as I advise him," grunted
Turner.

"What is that, Monsieur?"

"Marry money and a woman he does not love."

They walked on for some moments in silence, and came to the turf
entrenchment raised against the wind, as against an assaulting army.
They passed through a gangway, cut in the embankment, to one of the
seats built against the outer side of it. Below them lay the clean
sands, stretching away on either side in unbroken smoothness--the
sands of Corton.

"And why will he not take your advice?" asked L