uquet sticking out from the
draperies of the couch. The paper was open and in the heat of the warm
little _atelier_ the fresh odor of the pungent flowers came strongly on
the air.

Bulstrode as he said good-by seemed to say it--and to look at the
lovers--through a haze of perfume--a perfume that, like the most
precious things in the world, pervades and affects, suggests and
impresses, while its existence is unseen, unknown to the world.

Once in his train, he had been able to catch it at the Invalides after
all, Jimmy drew a long breath and settled back into himself, for, he
had been, poor dear, during the past three weeks, in another man's
shoes and profiting by another man's identity. It was perfectly
heavenly to feel that he had been liberated by the merciful providence
which takes care to provide the right lover for the right place. He
couldn't be too grateful for the miracle which saved him from a
sacrifice alongside of which Abraham's would have been a jest indeed.

The June morning was warm and through the open car window, as the train
went comfortably along, the perfume of the country came into him where
he sat. Opposite, a pair of lovers frankly and naturally showed their
annoyance at the third person's intrusion, and Bulstrode,
sympathetically turned himself about and became absorbed in Suburban
Paris. His heart beat high at the fact of his deliverance. His
gratitude was sincere--moreover, his thoughts were of an agreeable
trend, and he was able to forget everybody else within twelve miles.
Secure in his impersonality and in the indifference of his broad
unseeing back, the lovers kissed and held hands.

Bulstrode wandered slowly up from the Versailles station to the Hotel
des Reservoirs, crossed the broad square of the Palace Court, found the
pink and yellow facade more mellow and perfect than ever, and toward
twelve-thirty strolled into the yard of the old hostelry. Breakfast
had been set for twelve-thirty, but his host was not there.

"Ah--mais, bon jour, Monsieur Bulstrode!" The proprietor knew and
appreciated this client greatly.

Monsieur Falconer, it seemed, had been called suddenly to Paris....
Yes--well--there were, now and then, in the course of life, bits of
news that could be borne with fortitude. "And Madame has also been
called to Paris?"

"Mais non!" Madame had a few minutes since gone out in the Park, the
proprietor thought she would not be very far away.

Bulstrode thanked