thing noxious
in the atmosphere, she was conscious during every moment spent in her
friend's society.

She grew fanciful with regard to the other Americans in the hotel. She
imagined they slighted her, or disapproved of her, or watched her course
with misgiving. With a family of good, simple people, who apparently had
nothing to strive for with the restlessness which characterized the
social fag-ends whom she was now in the habit of meeting, she would have
been glad to establish relations; but she never got beyond an occasional
bow or smile, generally over some incident connected with the children.
Of one man she was afraid. She was afraid of him without knowing why,
except that he seemed to watch her rather pityingly. She resented the
pity; she resented his watching her at all. And yet....

If he hadn't been a grave man, evidently occupied with grave affairs,
her resentment might have become annoyance. In the circumstances it was
resentment modified by a little gratitude. She hardly understood her
gratitude unless it was for a hint of solicitude in a world where no one
seemed to bother about her any more. He did bother about her. She grew
sure of that. Not for an instant could she think of the quiet, rather
wistful, regard with which she caught him following her or the children
as being meant otherwise than kindly.

She had no idea who he was. All she could affirm from distant and
somewhat superficial observation was that he was Somebody--Somebody of
position, experience, and judgment--Somebody to respect. She thought,
too, that he must be Somebody of distinction, partly because he looked
it, and partly because he was served by a valet and a secretary
scarcely less distinguished than himself. All three were serious men
well into the forties. The valet was English, the secretary French, the
master American. She would not, however, have taken the last-named for a
fellow-countryman if she had not accidentally heard him speak. In regard
to externals he was as nearly as possible denationalized. He had
evidently lived a long time abroad, though he bore no one country's
special stamp. He roused her curiosity, even while the kind of interest
in herself which she attributed to him--with what she admitted were the
most shadowy of reasons--hurt her pride. It hurt it in a manner to make
her the more resolute in going her own way.

Not that it was a really reprehensible way. The worst that could be said
of it was that it brough