would do this evening.

After dinner he disappeared, and Sylvia took Anna out into the garden.
But she did not show her the _potager_. The old kitchen-garden already
held for her associations which she did not wish to spoil or even to
disturb.

Madame Wolsky, sipping M. Polperro's excellent coffee, again mentioned
the Count.

"I am exceedingly surprised to see him here at Lacville," she said in a
musing voice, "I should have expected him to go to a more _chic_ place.
He always plays in the winter at Monte Carlo."

Sylvia summoned up courage to protest.

"But, Anna," she exclaimed, "surely the Comte de Virieu is only doing
what a great many other people do!"

Anna laughed good-humouredly.

"I see what you mean," she said. "You think it is a case of 'the pot
calling the kettle black.' How excellent are your English proverbs, dear
Sylvia! But no, it is quite different. Take me. I have an income, and
choose to spend it in gambling. I might prefer to have a big house, or
perhaps I should say a small house, for I am not a very rich woman. But
no, I like play, and I am free to spend my money as I like. The Comte de
Virieu is very differently situated! He is, so I've been told, a clever,
cultivated man. He ought to be working--doing something for his country's
good. And then he is so disagreeable! He makes no friends, no
acquaintances. He always looks as if he was doing something of which
he was ashamed. He never appears gay or satisfied, not even when he
is winning--"

"He does not look as cross as Monsieur Wachner," said Sylvia, smiling.

"Monsieur Wachner is like me," said Anna calmly. "He probably made a
fortune in business, and now he and his wife enjoy risking a little money
at play. Why should they not?"

"Madame Wachner told me to-day all about their poor friend who was
drowned," said Sylvia irrelevantly.

"Ah, yes, that was a sad affair! They were very foolish to become so
intimate with him. Why, they actually had him staying with them at the
time! You see, they had a villa close to the lake-side. And this young
Russian, it appears, was very fond of boating. It was a mysterious
affair, because, oddly enough, he had not been out in the town, or even
to the Casino, for four days before the accident happened. There was a
notion among some people that he had committed suicide, but that, I
fancy, was not so. He had won a large sum of money. Some thought the gold
weighed down his body in the water--. But that i