are already engaged?"

"Oh, no!" Sylvia shook her head.

"But you are young and beautiful. It would be a crime for you not to get
married again!" Madame Wachner persisted; and then, "I love beauty," she
cried enthusiastically. "You did not see me, Madame, last week, but I saw
you, and I said to my 'usband, 'There is a very beautiful person come to
Lacville, Fritz!' 'E laughed at me. 'Now you will be satisfied--now you
will 'ave something to look at,' 'e says. And it is quite true! When I
come back that night I was very sorry to see you not there. But we will
meet often now," she concluded pleasantly, "for I suppose, Madame, that
you too intend to play?"

That was the second time she had asked the question.

"I shall play a little," said Sylvia, blushing, "but of course I do not
want to get into the habit of gambling."

"No, indeed, that would be terrible! And then there are not many who can
afford to gamble and to lose their good money." She looked inquiringly at
Sylvia. "But, there," she sighed--her fat face became very grave--"it is
extraordinary 'ow some people manage to get money--I mean those 'oo are
determined to play!"

And then, changing the subject, Madame Wachner suddenly began to tell
her new acquaintance all about the tragic death by drowning of her and
her husband's friend at Aix-les-Bains the year before. She now spoke in
French, but with a peculiar guttural accent.

"I never talk of it before Fritz," she said quickly, "but, of course,
we both often think of it still. Oh, it was a terrible thing! We were
devoted to this young Russian friend of ours. He and Fritz worked an
excellent system together--the best Fritz ever invented--and for a little
while they made money. But his terribly sad death broke our luck"--she
shook her head ominously.

"How did it happen?" said Sylvia sympathetically.

And then Madame Wachner once again broke into her h-less English.

"They went together in a boat on Lake Bourget--it is a real lake, that
lake, not like the little fishpond 'ere. A storm came on, and the boat
upset. Fritz did his best to save the unfortunate one, but 'e could not
swim. You can imagine my sensations? I was in a summer-'ouse, trembling
with fright. Thunder, lightning, rain, storm, all round! Suddenly I see
Fritz, pale as death, wet through, totter up the path from the lake.
'Where is Sasha?' I shriek out to 'im. And 'e shake 'is 'ead
despairingly--Sasha was in the lake!"

The speaker stared b