but in her heart she mused on the strangeness of things, and
wondered if this smiling land produced many chauffeurs who lauded it
in such phrases.

Up and down Handcross Hill they whirred, treating that respectable
eminence as if it were a snow bump in the path of a flying toboggan.
Medenham had roamed the South Downs as a boy, and he was able now to
point out Chanctonbury Ring, the Devil's Dyke, Ditchling Beacon, and
the rest of the round-shouldered giants that guard the Weald. In the
mellow light of a superlatively fine afternoon the Downs wore their
gayest raiment of blue and purple, red and green--decked, too, with
ribands of white roads and ruffs of rose-laden hedges.

Cynthia forgot many times, and he hardly ever remembered, that he
was a chauffeur, and the miles, too, were disregarded until the sea
sparkled in their eyes as they emerged from the great gap which the
Devil forebore to use when he planned to swamp a land of churches by
cutting the famous dyke.

Then the girl awoke from a day-dream, and the car was stopped on the
pretense that this marvelous landscape must be viewed in silence and
at rest. She rejoined Mrs. Devar, and began instantly to expatiate on
the beauties of Sussex, so Medenham ran slowly down the hill through
Patcham and Preston into Brighton.

And there, sitting in the wide porch of the Hotel Metropole, was a
slim, handsome Frenchman, who sprang up with all the vivacity of his
race when the Mercury drew up at the foot of the steps, dusty after
its long run, but circumspect as though it had just quitted the
garage.

"Mrs. Devar, Miss Vanrenen! what a delightful surprise!" cried the
stranger with an accompaniment of wide smiles and hat flourishing.
"Who would have thought of meeting you here? _Voyez_, _donc_, I was
moping in solitude when suddenly the sky opens and you appear."

"_Deae ex machina_, in fact, Monsieur Marigny," said Cynthia, shaking
hands with this overjoyed gentleman.

Mrs. Devar, not understanding, cackled loudly.

"We've had a lovely run from town, Count Edouard," she gushed, "and it
is just too awfully nice of you to be in Brighton. Now, _don't_ say
you have made all sorts of engagements for the evening."

"Such as they are they go by the board, dear lady," said the gallant
Count, who had good teeth, and showed them in a succession of grins.

"Ten to-morrow morning, Fitzroy," said Cynthia, turning on the steps
as she was about to enter the hotel. He lifted his ca