ll be all right,
because, although it's a famous place for food, at this season few
people stop overnight, and I've found out through the telephone that the
Turnours are the only ones who have taken bedrooms. That means you'll
have your dinner and breakfast by yourself."

"Oh, that will be nice!" I said, trying to speak as if I delighted in
the thought of solitude and reflection. "I wish I were paying my own
way, too; but I couldn't do it on fifty francs a month, could I?"

"Fifty francs a month!" he echoed, astonished. "Is that your
compensation for being a slave to such a woman? By Jove, it makes me hot
all over, to think that a girl like you should--"

"Well, this trip is thrown in as additional compensation," I reminded
him. "And thanks to you and your kindness, I believe I'm going to find
my place more than tolerable."

The car stopped, and duty began. I couldn't even turn and say good night
to the chauffeur, as I walked primly into the hotel, laden with my
mistress's things.

She and Sir Samuel had the best rooms in the house, a suite big enough
and grand enough for a king and queen, with a delightful _loggia_
overlooking the high garden and the sea. But of course Lady Turnour
would die rather than seem impressed by anything, and would probably
pick faults if she were invited to sleep at Buckingham Palace or Windsor
Castle--a contingency which I think unlikely. She was snappish with
hunger, and did not trouble to restrain her temper before me. Poor Sir
Samuel! It is he who has snatched her from her lodging-house, to lead
her into luxury, because of his faithful love of many years; and this is
the way she rewards him! If I'd been in his place, and had a javelin
handy, I think I might suddenly have become a widower.

She was better after dinner, however, so I knew she must have been well
fed: and in the morning, after a gorgeous _dejeuner_ on the loggia, she
was in an amiable mood to plan for the day's journey.

At ten o'clock the chauffeur arrived, and was shown up to the Turnours'
vast Louis XVI. salon. He looked as much like an icily regular,
splendidly null, bronze statue as a flesh-and-blood young man could
possibly look, for that, no doubt, is his conception of the part of a
well-trained "shuvver"; and he did not seem aware of my existence as he
stood, cap in hand, ready for orders.

As for me, I flatter myself that I was equally admirable in my own
_metier_. I was assorting a motley collection of gui