ing and the sea will go
on changing colour long after our pains and joys have vanished from the
world. Nature is pitilessly indifferent to human emotion."

"If so," she said, her intuition finding the weakness of my slipshod
argument, "how can it touch human mouldiness?"

"I don't know," said I. "The poets will tell you. All you have to do is
to lie on the breast of the Great Mother and your heartache will go
from you. I've never tried it myself, as I've never been afflicted with
heartache."

"Is that true?" she asked, womanlike catching at the personal.

I smiled and nodded.

"I'm glad on your account," she said sincerely. "It's the very devil of
an ache. I've always had it."

"Poor Lola," said I, prompted by my acquired instinct of eumoiriety. "I
wish I could cure you."

"You?" She gave a short little laugh and then turned her head away.

"I had a very comfortable crossing," she remarked a moment later.

I gave her into the keeping of the manager of the hotel and did not see
her again until she came down somewhat late for dinner. I met her in
the vestibule. She wore a closely fitting brown dress, which in colour
matched the bronze of her hair and in shape showed off her lithe and
generous figure.

I thought it my duty to cheer her by a well-deserved compliment.

"Are you aware," I said, with a low bow, "that you're a remarkably
handsome woman?"

A perfectly unnecessary light came into her eyes and a superfluous flush
to her cheeks. "If I'm at least that to you, I'm happy," she said.

"You're that to the dullest vision. Follow the _maitre d'hotel_,"
said I, as we entered the _salle a manger_, "and I'll walk behind in
reflected glory."

We made an effective entrance. I declare there was a perceptible rattle
of soup-spoons laid down by the retired Colonels and maiden ladies as
we passed by. Colonel Bunnion returned my nod of greeting in the most
distracted fashion and gazed at Lola with the frank admiration of
British Cavalry. I felt foolishly proud and exhilarated, and gave her at
my table the seat commanding a view of the room. I then ordered a bottle
of champagne, which I am forbidden to touch.

"It isn't often that I have the pleasure of dining with you," I said by
way of apology.

"This is the very first time," she said.

"And it's not going to be the last," I declared.

"I thought you were going to ship me back to Marseilles to-morrow."

She laughed lazily, meeting my eyes. I smiled.

"It