out him at Zurich," said Von Ibn
doggedly; "myself, I did not like him the first minute that I see him."

"When did you first see him?"

"He was there at the table beside you."

Rosina laughed a little. He turned towards her and smiled.

"Then you will forgive me?"

"Yes, this one time more. But never, never again."

He turned to the lake and consumed five minutes in assimilating her
remark. Then his look came back to her.

"I was awake so much last night that my eyes burn me; do they show it?"

She looked into his eyes, and they burned indeed--burned with a latent
glow that forced her own to lower their lids.

"Do they look strangely to you?" he asked.

"No," she said in a low tone.

"That is odd, because in all my life they have never look at any one as
they look at you to-night."

She drew herself together suddenly.

"Don't talk foolishly," she said distinctly.

"That was no foolishness; it is true."

"It is just the sort of thing that all men say, and I like you because
you do not say things like all other men."

"Do all other men say to you that?"

"Not just that, but its equivalents. Men in general are not very
original."

He took out his cigarette case and contemplated its bas-relief of two
silver nymphs for several seconds.

"You may," said his companion, smiling.

"May what?"

"May smoke."

"But I am going to, anyway."

"Oh."

He looked at her with an air of remonstrance.

"This is not your parlor," he reminded her.

"No," she said meekly; "I stand corrected."

He lit the cigarette and threw the match into a rose-bush.

"I think that I will go and find Molly," she suggested presently.

"Why?"

"I think that she would be able to leave madame by this time."

"But if she can leave her then she will come to us, and I do not want
her; do you?"

"I always want her."

"That is absurd. Why do you want her? I never want another man when we
speak together."

"But I am very fond of Molly."

"So am I most affectionate of my professor in Leipsic, but I never once
have wished for him when I was with you."

"That's different."

"No, it is quite one. Do not go for mademoiselle; I have something to
say to you, and there is only to-night to say it."

"What is it?"

"It is that I have really to go away. This time I must. I go to-morrow
morning without fail."

"I am so glad," she exclaimed.

"Yes," he said, with a quick glance; "is it really so that my going
makes you pleas