e Carlo. She did not seem to mind
whether it was hot or cold if she could get what she wanted--that is,
Play--"

Madame Wachner had now made the tea. She turned and stood with arms
akimbo, staring out of the little window which gave on the sun-baked lawn
bounded by the chestnut wood.

"No," she said slowly, "I do not for a moment suppose that you will ever
see Madame Wolsky again. It would surprise me very much if you were to do
so. For one thing, she must be--well, rather ashamed of the way she
treated you--you who were so kind to her, Sylvie!"

"She was far kinder to me than I was to her," said Sylvia in a low voice.

"Ah, my dear"--Madame Wachner put her fat hand on Sylvia's
shoulder--"you have such a kind, warm, generous heart--that is the truth!
No, no, Anna Wolsky was not able to appreciate such a friend as you are!
But now the tea is made, made strong to the English taste, we must not
leave L'Ami Fritz and Mr. Chester alone together. Gentleman are dull
without ladies."

Carrying the teapot she led the way into the dining-room, and they sat
down round the table.

The little tea-party went off fairly well, but Chester could not forget
his strange conversation with Sylvia in the motor. Somehow, he and she
had never come so really near to one another as they had done that
afternoon. And yet, on the other hand, he felt that she was quite unlike
what he had thought her to be. It was as if he had come across a new
Sylvia.

Madame Wachner, looking at his grave, absorbed face, felt uneasy. Was it
possible that this Englishman intended to take pretty Mrs. Bailey away
from Lacville? That would be a pity--a very great pity!

She glanced apprehensively at her husband. L'Ami Fritz would make himself
very unpleasant if Sylvia left Lacville just now. He would certainly
taunt his wife with all the money they had spent on her entertainment--it
was money which they both intended should bear a very high rate of
interest.

CHAPTER XXII

The two following days dragged themselves uneventfully away. Sylvia did
her best to be kind to Bill Chester, but she felt ill at ease, and could
not help showing it.

And then she missed the excitement and interest of the Casino. Bill had
not suggested that they should go there, and she would not be the one to
do so.

The long motoring expeditions they took each afternoon gave her no
pleasure. Her heart was far away, in Brittany; in imagination she was
standing by a grave surr