“I rather like you better than usual tonight. You have made me do something I didn’t want to do, and anger is becoming to you.” “The eternal female! Well, God knows, I wouldn’t have you abnormal. What is this?” A page was standing before the table with a telegram in his hand. “Pour M. le Marquis de Valdobia,” he said. With a word of apology Valdobia opened the telegram. Ora, watching him, saw his face turn white. “What is it?” she asked anxiously. “I do hope it is not bad news.” She felt a sharp pang at the possibility of losing him. He rose and looked at his watch. “My mother is very ill,” he said. “A train goes in an hour and ten minutes. I must take it. But there is something I want to say to you before I go; I may be detained in Rome. Will you get your wrap and come into the gardens for a few moments?” “I am so sorry,” murmured Ora, with real sympathy. “Of course I will go.” He took her to the cloak-room. “Wait here for a moment,” he said. “I must telephone to my man to pack and meet me at the train; and tell Mowbray not to look for us later.” He left her, and Ora watched the passing couples, trying not to think. She was a little frightened, but still too excited to shrink from a possible ordeal. XXXVII He returned in a few moments, and they left the Club House by the main entrance and strolled toward the gardens; then he suddenly led her to the terrace. There were many people walking in the tropical scented park of the Casino, but the digue above the Mediterranean was deserted. Monte Carlo can be cold in May but it can be as warm as July in February, and the night was mild and beautiful. The sea under the stars was almost as blue as by day. The air was very still, although a band was playing somewhere, far away. From the other side of the bay came the faint humming of an aeroplane. There was to be an aviation meet on the morrow, and no doubt one of the airmen was about to make a trial flight. They sat down on one of the benches, and Valdobia folded his arms, then turned and leaned his elbow on the back of the seat and his head on his hand. “I am not quite in the mood for love-making,” he said, “after the news I have received; but I can’t go without letting you know why I followed you to Genoa--without some sort of an understanding.” Ora looked at him out of the corner of her eye. His face was set and determined, but she concluded that he was not the man to be dangerous when grieving for his mother. “What is it?” she asked softly. “I know, of course, that you--like me.”