e referred to it, and this tacit avoidance of the subject
kept it in the immediate foreground of consciousness. But there was
another change, perceptible only to Lily; and that was that Dorset now
avoided her almost as pointedly as his wife. Perhaps he was repenting his
rash outpourings of the previous day; perhaps only trying, in his clumsy
way, to conform to Selden's counsel to behave "as usual." Such
instructions no more make for easiness of attitude than the
photographer's behest to "look natural"; and in a creature as unconscious
as poor Dorset of the appearance he habitually presented, the struggle to
maintain a pose was sure to result in queer contortions.

It resulted, at any rate, in throwing Lily strangely on her own
resources. She had learned, on leaving her room, that Mrs. Dorset was
still invisible, and that Dorset had left the yacht early; and feeling
too restless to remain alone, she too had herself ferried ashore.
Straying toward the Casino, she attached herself to a group of
acquaintances from Nice, with whom she lunched, and in whose company she
was returning to the rooms when she encountered Selden crossing the
square. She could not, at the moment, separate herself definitely from
her party, who had hospitably assumed that she would remain with them
till they took their departure; but she found time for a momentary pause
of enquiry, to which he promptly returned: "I've seen him again--he's
just left me."

She waited before him anxiously. "Well? what has happened? What WILL
happen?"

"Nothing as yet--and nothing in the future, I think."

"It's over, then? It's settled? You're sure?"

He smiled. "Give me time. I'm not sure--but I'm a good deal surer." And
with that she had to content herself, and hasten on to the expectant
group on the steps.

Selden had in fact given her the utmost measure of his sureness, had even
stretched it a shade to meet the anxiety in her eyes. And now, as he
turned away, strolling down the hill toward the station, that anxiety
remained with him as the visible justification of his own. It was not,
indeed, anything specific that he feared: there had been a literal truth
in his declaration that he did not think anything would happen. What
troubled him was that, though Dorset's attitude had perceptibly changed,
the change was not clearly to be accounted for. It had certainly not been
produced by Selden's arguments, or by the action of his own soberer
reason. Five minutes' t