h,
addressing Madame Wolsky, "This is not very much like Aix-les-Bains, is
it, Madame?"

Anna shook her head.

"Still it is a pretty place, Lacville, and cheaper than one would think."
She leant across the table, and continued in a confidential undertone:
"As for us--my husband and I--we have taken a small villa; he has grown
so tired of hotels."

"But surely you had a villa at Aix?" said Anna, in a surprised tone.

"Yes, we had a villa there, certainly. But then a very sad affair
happened to us--" she sighed. "You may have heard of it?" and she fixed
her small, intensely bright eyes inquiringly on Anna.

Anna bent her head.

"Yes, I heard all about it" she said gravely. "You mean about your friend
who was drowned in the lake? It must have been a very distressing thing
for you and your husband."

"Yes, indeed! He never can bear to speak of it."

And Sylvia, looking over at the man sitting just opposite to herself, saw
a look of unease come over his sallow face. He was eating his omelette
steadily, looking neither to the right nor to the left.

"Ami Fritz!" cried his wife, turning suddenly to him, and this time she
spoke English, "Say, 'How d'you do,' to this lady! You will remember that
we used to see 'er at Aix, in the Casino there?"

"Ami Fritz" bowed his head, but remained silent.

"Yes," his wife went on, volubly, "that sad affair made Aix very
unpleasant to us! After that we spent the winter in various pensions,
and then, instead of going back to Aix, we came 'ere. So far, I am quite
satisfied with Lacville."

Though she spoke with a very bad accent and dropped her aitches, her
English was quick and colloquial.

"Lacville is a cosy, 'appy place!" she cried, and this time she smiled
full at Sylvia, and Sylvia told herself that the woman's face, if very
plain, was like a sunflower,--so broad, so kindly, so good-humoured!

When dejeuner was over, the four had coffee together, and the melancholy
Monsieur Wachner, who was so curiously unlike his bright, vivacious wife,
at last broke into eager talk, for he and Anna Wolsky had begun to
discuss different gambling systems. His face lighted up; it was easy
to see what interested and stimulated this long, lanky man whose wife
addressed him constantly as "Ami Fritz."

"Now 'e is what the English call 'obby-'orse riding," she exclaimed, with
a loud laugh. "To see 'im in all 'is glory you should see my Fritz at
Monte Carlo!" she was speaking to Sylvia. "There