ldness in showing her his feelings, he was a scrupulous man. A
careless man could certainly have found out who she was at the Carlton,
by asking a waiter. Evidently he had not chosen to do that. The omission
showed delicacy, refinement of nature. It pleased her. It made her feel
safe. She felt that the man was a gentleman, one who could respect a
woman. Sir Seymour had been wrong in his hasty judgment. An outsider
would not have behaved in such a way. That the stranger had deliberately
taken down her name in his book while she was watching him did not
displease her at all. He wished her to know of his longing, but he was
evidently determined to keep it hidden from others.

She felt now in the very heart of a romantic adventure, and thrilled
with excitement about the future. What would happen when they all got
to Paris? It was evident to her now that he did not know she had an
apartment there--unless, indeed, he had first seen her in Paris and
had, perhaps, followed her to London! But even if that were so it was
unlikely that he knew where she lived.

In any case she knew he was going to the Ritz.

The train flew on towards the sea while she mused over possibilities and
imagined events in Paris.

She knew now, of course, that the stranger was absolutely out of her
world. His ignorance proved to her that he could not be in any society
she moved in. She guessed that he was some charming young man from a
distance, come to Europe perhaps for the first time--some ardent youth
from Brazil, from Peru, from Mexico! The guess gave colour to the
adventure. He knew her name now. She wondered what his name was. And she
wondered about the old woman in the wig and about the sardonic friend.
In what relation did the three people stand to each other?

She could not divine. But she thought that perhaps the old woman was the
mother of the man she wished to know.

She had a private cabin on the boat. It was on the top deck. But, as the
weather was fine and the sea fairly calm, her maid occupied it with the
jewel-case, while she sat in the open on a deck chair, well wrapped up
in a fur rug. Presently an acquaintance, a colonel in the Life Guards,
joined her, established himself in a chair at her side, and kept her
busy with conversation.

When the ship drew out into the Channel several men began to pace up
and down the deck with the sturdy determination of good sailors resolved
upon getting health from the salt briskness of the sea.