is there of adorable that she must not resemble
in the innocence of her Somersetshire home?"

"You cannot imagine it, Monsieur," said the Count; "but I have had the
privilege to see it."

"I hope Monsieur Pujol will visit us also in our country home, when we
get back," said Mrs. Errington with intent to pacificate. "It is modest,
but it is old-world and has been in our family for hundreds of years."

"Ah, these old English homes!" said Aristide.

"Would you care to hear about it?"

"I should," said he.

He drew his chair courteously a foot or so nearer that of the mild lady;
Monsieur de Lussigny took instant advantage of the move to establish
himself close to Miss Betty. Aristide turned one ear politely to Mrs.
Errington's discourse, the other ragingly and impotently to the
whispered conversation between the detached pair.

Presently a novel fell from the lady's lap. Aristide sprang to his feet
and restored it. He remained standing. Mrs. Errington consulted a watch.
It was nearing lunch time. She rose, too. Aristide took her a pace or
two aside.

"My dear Mrs. Errington," said he, in English. "I do not wish to be
indiscreet--but you come from your quiet home in Somerset and your
beautiful daughter is so young and inexperienced, and I am a man of the
world who has mingled in all the society of Europe--may I warn you
against admitting the Comte de Lussigny too far into your intimacy."

She turned an anxious face. "Monsieur Pujol, is there anything against
the Count?"

Aristide executed the large and expressive shrug of the Southerner.

"I play high at the tables for my amusement--I know the principal
players, people of high standing. Among them Monsieur de Lussigny's
reputation is not spotless."

"You alarm me very much," said Mrs. Errington, troubled.

"I only put you on your guard," said he.

The others who had risen and followed, caught them up. At the entrance
to the hotel the ladies left the men elaborately saluting. The latter,
alone, looked at each other.

"Monsieur."

"Monsieur."

Each man raised his hat, turned on his heel and went his way. Aristide
betook himself to the cafe on the Place Carnot on the side of the square
facing the white Etablissement des Bains, with a stern sense of having
done his duty. It was monstrous that this English damask rose should
fall a prey to so detestable a person as the Comte de Lussigny. He
suspected him of disgraceful things. If only he had proof. Fortune,