Though moving in the gay world of fashion and frivolity, of gambling and kindred vices, she was not of it. Her knowledge of man's sins and woman's frailty was wider than that of most girls of her age, yet she had remained sweet, simple, and ingenuous. Often, when at home in her room overlooking the sea, she would stand out upon the balcony and gaze away at the horizon distant in the broad expanse of blue, thinking deeply of George and wondering how he fared. Still she reflected that, after all, life was far more pleasant there than in the lethargic Berkshire village. Yet amid that constant whirl of gaiety she never forgot those days that were past. Even on that bright morning as at Zertho's side she passed along, her sweet face fresh beneath her cream sunshade, she remembered the time when neither Nelly nor herself dare walk there--those days of dire misfortune when only twenty sous lay between them and starvation. Strolling on through the well-dressed throng they presently met the Captain, spruce in a suit of dark grey with soft hat and brown boots, walking slowly, in conversation with a portly Frenchman who had been the Prince's guest on the previous evening. Saluting, Zertho and his fair companion passed on and continuing their walk strolled leisurely back to the Villa Chevrier. "Why are you so thoughtful?" her companion asked presently in French, having noticed her wonderful grey eyes fixed upon the calm sunlit sea. "It is woman's privilege to think," she replied, laughing as she turned to him with her clear eyes expressive of the soul that lay behind. "I was reflecting upon the difference between our life two years ago and what it is to-day." "Yes, slightly better, isn't it? Well, it is luck--always luck," he answered. "Your father is going over to Monte Carlo to-morrow, and I hope that Fortune may be kind also to him. He has waited long enough for a change of luck." Liane regarded him steadily for an instant, then said reproachfully,-- "It is you who have persuaded him. Why have you done this, when you know full well that half an hour at roulette will bring back upon him the mania for play, the fatal recklessness that must be his ruin and mine? This is surely not the action of a friend." "Ah! forgive me," he exclaimed, quickly. "I had no idea that my suggestion to drive you both over there to-morrow would displease you. "I'll make an excuse to him, and we will not go," he added, deferentially.