elephoned to me that you
might be coming, Madame, to dejeuner!" And as Sylvia smiled in assent:
"I am delighted, I am honoured, by the visit of Madame Bailey!"

Sylvia laughed outright. She really could not help it! It was very nice
and thoughtful of M. Girard to have telephoned to his cousin. But how
dreadful it would have been if she had gone straight back to Paris from
the station. All these kind people would have had their trouble for
nothing.

M. Polperro was a shrewd Southerner, and he had had the sense to make
but few alterations to the Villa du Lac. It therefore retained something
of the grand air it had worn in the days when it had been the property
of a Court official. The large, cool, circular hall into which the
hotel-keeper ushered Sylvia was charming, as were the long, finely
decorated reception-rooms on either side.

The dining-room, filled with small oval tables, to which M. Polperro next
led his honoured guest, had been built out since the house had become an
hotel. It commanded a view of the lake on the one side, and of the large,
shady garden of the villa on the other.

"I have arranged for Madame a little table in what we call the lake
window," observed M. Polperro. "As yet Lacville is very empty. Paris is
so delightful," he sighed, "but very soon, when the heat comes, Lacville
will be quite full," he smiled joyously. "I myself have a very choice
clientele--I do not deal with rubbish." He drew himself up proudly. "My
clients come back to me year after year. Already I have six visitors, and
in ten days my pension will be _au grand complet_. It is quality, not
quantity, that I desire, Madame. If ever you know anyone who wishes to
come to Lacville you may safely recommend them--I say it with my hands
on my heart," and he suited his action to his words--"to the Villa du
Lac."

How delightful it all was to Sylvia Bailey! No wonder her feeling of
depression and loneliness vanished.

As she sat down, and looked out of the bay window which commanded the
whole length of the gleaming, sun-flecked lake, she told herself that,
pleasant as was Paris, Lacville on a hot day was certainly a hundred
times pleasanter than Paris.

And the Casino? Sylvia fixed her blue eyes on the white, fairy-like
group of buildings, which were so attractive an addition to the pretty
landscape.

Surely one might spend a pleasant time at Lacville and never play for
money? Though she was inclined to feel that in this matter of