y fashion. "It
would be a pity to be in Cannes and not see something of its gay side.
You look extremely nice," she added with a glance of approval.

Esther glowed with appreciation of the compliment, inwardly hoping
Roger agreed with his aunt in her opinion of her. She felt his eye
upon her as she stood there with her simple evening coat wrapped
tightly about her, the grey of its fur collar soft against her throat,
but he said nothing. A movement behind her made her turn towards the
drawing-room door.

"_Vous sortez?_"

It was Lady Clifford who spoke. There was a brittle, intensely Gallic
intonation about the query with its upward inflection, reminding one
somehow of a postman's knock, a sort of rat-tat-tat.

Miss Clifford answered for them.

"Yes, Therese, Roger is taking Miss Rowe out to dinner. It is such an
excellent idea for both of them to have a bit of fun."

"Ah!"

An indescribable glint came into the wide grey eyes, and there was a
brief pause before Lady Clifford smiled and gave a little wave of the
hand.

"_Alors--amusez-vous bien!_" she said, and turned away.

Could it be that she was displeased with her stepson for paying
attention to a nurse in her employ? Esther was not quite sure, but she
felt a moment's awkwardness. It vanished, however, when a moment later
she climbed into the Citroen beside Roger.

"I hope you don't mind this plebeian way of getting about?" Roger said
as he started the car. "I somehow feel I don't like to use the
chauffeur and the Rolls in case my stepmother should want it."

"What do you think I'm used to, anyway?" demanded Esther with a
light-hearted laugh.

He turned his head and surveyed her critically.

"I'm not sure what you're used to," he replied. "But as you sit there
you look like a million dollars, as they say in your country."

She was satisfied he admired her. The evening was hers to enjoy.

The Restaurant des Ambassadeurs was rapidly filling when they entered
and made their way to the table reserved for them. With keen interest
Esther looked about her at the groups of sleek, well-dressed people,
English, French, Russian, Italian. There was a large party of
Americans who had crossed on the same boat with Roger. Their voices
rang out, their R's smacked of the Middle-West, Mommer and Popper
seeing Europe, accompanied by a brace of coltish daughters, a reedy son
with enormous spectacles, and the son's two college chums, who looked
to be good