Frank was able to get three rooms at the Hotel de Paris at Monte Carlo. I had only to approve them. We met in our sitting-room at half-past three, ready to go out for a walk. It would be inexact to say that we were not nervous. But we were happy. He had not abandoned his straw hat. 'Don't wear that any more,' I said to him, smiling. 'But why? It's quite new.' 'It doesn't suit you,' I said. 'Oh, that doesn't matter,' he laughed, and he put it on. 'But I don't like to see you in it,' I persisted. 'Well, you'll stand it this afternoon, my angel, and I'll get another to-morrow.' 'Haven't you got another one here?' I asked, with discontent. 'No,' and he laughed again. 'But, dear--' I pouted. He seemed suddenly to realize that as a fact I did not like the hat. 'Come here,' he said, charmingly grave; and he led me by the hand into his bedroom, which was littered with clothes, small parcels, boots, and brushes. One chair was overturned. 'Heavens!' I muttered, pretending to be shocked at the disorder. He drew, me to a leather box of medium size. 'You can open it,' he said. I opened it. The thing was rather a good contrivance, for a man. It held a silk hat, an opera hat, a bowler hat, some caps, and a soft Panama straw. 'And you said you had no others!' I grumbled at him. 'Well, which is it to be?' he demanded. 'This, of course,' I said, taking the bowler. I reached up, removed the straw hat from his head, and put the bowler in its place. 'There!' I exclaimed, satisfied, giving the bowler a pat--there!' He laughed, immensely content, enraptured, foolishly blissful. We were indeed happy. Before opening the door leading to the corridor we stopped and kissed. On the seaward terrace of the vast, pale, floriated Casino, so impressive in its glittering vulgarity, like the bride-cake of a stockbroker's wedding, we strolled about among a multifarious crowd, immersed in ourselves. We shared a contempt for the architecture, the glaring flower-beds, and the false distinction of the crowd, and an enthusiasm for the sunshine and the hills and the sea, and whatever else had escaped the hands of the Casino administration. We talked lightly and freely. Care seemed to be leaving us; we had no preoccupations save those which were connected with our passion. Then I saw, standing in an attitude of attention, the famous body-servant of Lord Francis Alcar, and I knew that Lord Francis could not be far away. We spoke to the valet; he pointed out his master, seated at the front of the terrace, and told us, in a discreet, pained, respectful voice, that our venerable friend had been mysteriously unwell at Monte Carlo, and was now taking the air for the first time in ten days. I determined that we should go boldly and speak to him. 'Lord Francis,' I said gently, after we had stood some seconds by his chair, unremarked.