Hollis happened to see him meet Eve. Outwardly it was simply that they shook hands, and stood for a moment exchanging an unimportant question or two; or rather Paul asked, and Eve answered; but Paul's tone was not what it once had been, his eyes, looking at Eve, were different. It was one thing to know that she loved Paul, Hollis was used to that; it was another to know that Paul loved her. He watched through the day, with all the acuteness of jealousy, discovering nothing. But that evening, when Eve had said good-night and started towards her lodge, Paul rose and followed her. "I guess I'll go down to the lake for a moment or two," Hollis said to the judge, who was sitting by the fire. He walked away in the direction of the lake; then, doubling upon his track, he returned, avoiding the fire and going towards the row of lodges. Presently he saw two dusky figures, a man and a woman; they stood there for a moment; then the man bent his head and touched with his lips the woman's wrist. It was but for a second; they separated, she going towards her lodge, and he returning to the fire. The watcher in the wood stole noiselessly down to the beach and got out a canoe; then he went off and woke an Indian. Presently the two were paddling westward over the dark lake. They caught the steamer. Hollis reached Port aux Pins the following evening. From the boat he went to a restaurant and ordered dinner; he called it "dinner" to make it appear more fine. He ordered the best that the establishment could offer. He complained because there were no anchovies. He said to the waiter: "_This_ patty de fograr?--You must be sick! Take away these off-color peaches and bring me something first class. Bring lick-koors, too; can you catch on to that?" He drank a great deal of wine, finishing with champagne; then he lit a cigar and sauntered out. He went to a beer-garden. The place was brightly lighted; dusty evergreens planted in tubs made foliage; little tables were standing in the sand; there was a stage upon which four men, in Tyrolese costume, were singing, "O Strassburg, du wunderschöne Stadt!" very well, accompanied by a small orchestra. "Hello, Katty, wie geht's?" said Hollis to a girl who was passing with a tray of empty beer-glasses. She stopped. "Want some ice-cream, Katty?" "Oh, come now, Mr. Hollis, you know there's no ice-cream here." "Did I say here? Outside, of course. Come along." Katty went, nothing loath. She was a girl of sixteen, with bright eyes, thick braids of brown hair, and a sweet voice; the fairness of extreme youth gave her a fictitious innocence. He took her to the ephemeral saloon, and sat looking at her while she devoured two large slabs of a violently pink tint; her preposterous Gainsborough hat, with its imitation plumes, she had taken off, and the flaring gas-light shone on her pretty face. "Now shall we have a walk, Katty?"