moment the commanding spectacle outside had emptied.

It was a little open rotunda, with seats all round and a rude table in
the middle. In sitting down he placed himself as nearly as possible in
full view, but with his face toward the mountains. It gave him a
preoccupied air to be seen relighting his cigar. It was thus optional
with the couple who began to advance along the promenade to pass him by
or to pause and address him.

Nothing but a shadow warned him of their approach.

"Chip--"

He turned. Edith was standing in the doorway, the man behind her. The
haggard pallor of her face and the feverishness of her eyes reminded
Chip of the morning little Tom was born. He was on his feet--silent. He
couldn't even breathe her name. It was the less necessary since she
herself hastened to speak:

"Chip, Mr. Lacon knows we met in England. I told him as soon as I
reached Paris; I didn't want him not to know. And now he wants us all to
meet--I don't know why."

Since he had to say something, he uttered the first words that came to
him: "Was there any harm in it--our meeting? Mr. Lacon knows we have
children--and things to talk over."

"Oh, it isn't only that," she said, excitedly. "It's more. I don't know
what--but I know it's more."

He looked puzzled. "More in what way?"

"More in this way," said the measured voice, that had lost no shade of
its self-control. "I understand that Edith feels she has made a
mistake--that you've both made a mistake--"

[Illustration: Edith was standing in the doorway, the man behind her.
"Chip, Mr. Lacon knows we met in England."]

"I never said so," she interrupted, hurriedly.

Lacon smiled, as nearly as his saddened face could smile. "I didn't say
you said so," he corrected, gently. "I said I understood. There's a
difference. And, since I do understand, I feel it right to offer you--to
offer you both--"

Exhaustion compelled her to drop into a seat. "What are you going to
say?"

"Nothing that can hurt you, I hope--or--or Mr. Walker, either. Suppose
we all sit down?"

He followed his own suggestion with a dignity almost serene. Chip took
mechanically the seat from which he had just risen. It offered him the
resource of looking more directly at the range of glistening peaks than
at either of his two companions.

"The point for our consideration is this," Lacon resumed, as calmly as
if he were taking part in a meeting at the Bundespalast. "Admitting that
you've both made a mis