"Then you are inclined to accept," he observed, blankly. She hesitated. Slowly she rose from the settee, crossed to the window and pushed open the sun-shutters, allowing the golden sunset to stream into the room from over the clear blue-green sea. "Yes," she answered, standing gazing out upon the far-off horizon where the white-sailed racing yachts, Ailsa and Britannia, were passing, "I am inclined to accept." "Very well," he stammered, sitting rigid and immovable. "My future is entirely in your hands." She passed her hand wearily across her brow. With the sunset falling full upon her, he saw how heavy-eyed she was, and how artificial was the complexion that had looked so well in the dreamy half-light when the jalousies had been closed. Yes. She no doubt bore traces of a faded beauty, but she was old; there were lines in her brow, and crows' feet showed at the corners of her eyes. She was _passee_, and all the vivacity and coquettishness she had shown had been carefully feigned to assume an appearance of youth. The thought of it nauseated him. Again she turned towards him. Her momentary gravity had vanished, and she commenced a commonplace conversation. At last, however, he rose to go, but she would not hear of it. "No; remain here and dine," she said, in a low, persuasive tone. "Afterwards we can go over to Monte Carlo for an hour or so, and you can catch the yellow _rapide_ back to Nice at eleven." "But you must really excuse me. I--" "I will take no excuse," she said, laughing. "You must remain," and she rang for the servant and told him that m'sieur would dine. Together they stood at the open window watching the succession of lights and shadows upon the purple mountains, how the rose of the afterglow grew deeper over the sea until it faded, and the streak of gold and orange died out behind the distant rocks of Cap d'Aggio. Then the mists rose, creeping slowly up the mountain sides, the dusk deepened, a chill wind blew in from the sea, and just as they closed the windows the door opened and the man announced dinner. The table, set for two in a cosy little salle-a-manger, glittered with its cut-glass and shining plate, and was rendered bright by its shaded candles and small silver repousse stands filled with choice flowers. Throughout the meal she was gay and vivacious, speaking but little of herself and carefully avoiding all references to Liane. He found her a pleasant hostess, unusually well-informed for a woman. They discussed art and literature, and in all her criticisms she exhibited a wide and intimate knowledge of men and things. Then, when they rose, she opened a door at the further end of the room and he found himself in a spacious conservatory, where she invited him to smoke while she dressed to go to the Casino.