“I have an appointment with her in five minutes' time,” replied the other imperturbably. “Now, Mr. Chetwynd, I shall be proud to shake hands with you.” He extended his hand, which Raine, thrown off his balance for the moment, took mechanically; and then he gave him a parting nod, jerked forward his shirt-cuffs, squared his shoulders and marched away, evidently pleased with himself. Raine sat down again by the marble table, took a mouthful of the vermouth in front of him, and tried to recover his equilibrium. Katherine was going to see this man, to listen to a proposal of marriage. A spasm of pain shot through him. Perhaps the older love had smouldered through the years and had burst forth again. His hand shook as he put the glass to his lips again. People came and went in the _café_, sat down to their bock or absinthe and departed. The busy life of Geneva passed by on the sunny pavement; brown-cheeked, pale-eyed Swiss peasants, blue-bloused workmen, tourists with veils and puggarees and Baedekers. Barefooted children, spying the waiter's inattention, whined forward with decrepit bunches of edelweiss. Smart flower-sellers, in starched white sleeves, displayed their great baskets to the idlers. Cabs, hired by family parties of Germans or Americans, drove off with raucous shouts and cracking of whips, from the rank in the shade opposite, by the garden railings. The manager of the _café_, in correct frock-coat, stood under the awning in the gangway, and smiled benignly on his customers. The time passed. But Raine sat there chin in hand, staring at the blue veins of the marble, his thoughts and emotions as inchoate as they. At last he became aware that someone looked at him and bowed. Rousing himself from his daze he recognized Felicia, who was advancing along the pavement by the outer row of chairs. With a sudden impulse, he rose, and leaving some money for the waiter, went out and greeted her. “Isn't it a lovely day?” she said brightly. “I couldn't stay in the pension after déjeuner, so I came out to do some shopping.” “Déjeuner!” cried Raine, “Do you mean to say it is over?” “Why, of course. Haven't you had any?” “No--the time has passed. However, I am not very hungry. Do you mind if I go shopping with you?” “I should feel flattered, Mr. Chetwynd.” She laughed up at him from under her red parasol. The sight of her, fresh in her youthful colouring and dainty white dress, seemed to soothe the man's somewhat weary senses. A feeling of restfulness in her company stole over his heart, as he walked by her side. “What are you going to buy?” he asked as they passed by the shops. “I really don't know. I must consider. Perhaps some needles and tape. But you must stay outside.” “Oh no. I will come with you and see how it is done,” said Raine with a smile. “Then I'll have to buy something important that I don't want,” said Felicia.