The afternoon he spent lonely and dull. There was, it was true, plenty of amusement going on, but in his frame of mind he was in no mood for concerts, or the mild form of gambling offered by the Casino Municipal. He sat in the public garden listening to the band until sundown, then went for a stroll through the town, dined leisurely, and went to one of the small salons in the hotel there to await his visitor. A few minutes after nine the door was thrown open by one of the servants, behind whom stood a tall, well-dressed lady. "M'sieur Stra-atfeeld?" she exclaimed interrogatively, with a very pronounced French accent. "That is my name," he answered, bowing and inviting her into the room. The spring nights are chilly in Nice, and she was warmly clad in furs, and wore a neat toque with black veil, but even the spotted net was insufficient to conceal that an eminently handsome face was beneath. "Your room is warm and cosy," she exclaimed, when he had placed an armchair for her. "It is quite cold outside. May I be permitted to remove my cape?" "Certainly, madame," he answered, still standing near her, a puzzled expression upon his countenance as she unloosened her sealskin and allowed it to fall over the back of her chair, revealing a trim figure with narrow waist, neatly attired in black silk, the bodice trimmed with cream. "You were smoking," she said, with a smile. "Pray do not desist on my account. I love tobacco. Indeed, if you offered I would take one of your cigarettes--or would you think me very, very shocking?" "By all means," he laughed. "I shall be delighted if you'll join me," and he offered her his cigarette-case, and took one himself. Then he struck a vesta while she raised her veil, disclosing a pretty face and an adorable mouth, and lit up with the air of an inveterate smoker. Her fair hair was, he noticed, well-dressed, and her eyes were dark, but there was just the faintest suspicion of artificial colouring in the former, and her cheeks betrayed the use of the hare's foot and carmine. He reflected however, that in a Frenchwoman these little aids to beauty might be forgiven. Her handsome head was well poised, her throat soft and well-rounded, her white gloves new, and her dress a model of combined neatness and elegance. Her exact age was difficult to determine, nevertheless she was still young-looking, and possessed the _chic_ of the true Parisienne, which to Englishmen seldom fails to prove attractive. He made a movement to close the window, but with a pretty pout she detained him, declaring that the room was a little warm, and at least for the present she felt no draught. He sank back into his chair, and regarded her with an expression half of curiosity, half of surprise. Their eyes met. The silence was awkward, and he broke it by apologising for receiving her somewhat abruptly.