She displayed no particular enthusiasm when they met, nor distress when they parted--neither was she ever troubled by any qualms lest during their frequent separations, he should meet some woman whom he might perchance prefer to herself. They were engaged, and when the proper time came they would marry--meanwhile their private affairs concerned no one but themselves. In short, Elinor Leyton was not what is termed “a man’s woman”--all her friends (if she had any) were of her own sex. Having perused her letter, she refolded and replaced it in its envelope without a glance in the direction of Mrs. Pullen. Margaret thought she had a right to be informed of her brother-in-law’s movements. She had invited Miss Leyton to accompany her to Heyst at his request, and any preparations which might be requisite before he joined them, would have to be made by herself. “Is that from Ralph? What does he say?” she enquired in a low voice. “Nothing in particular!” “But when may we expect him at Heyst?” “Next week, he says, in time for the _Bataille des Fleurs_!” “Are you not pleased?” “Of course I am!” replied Elinor, but without a sparkle or blush. “O! if it were only my Arthur that were coming!” exclaimed Margaret, fervently, “I should go mad with joy!” “Then it is just as well perhaps that it is _not_ your Arthur!” rejoined her companion, as she put the letter into her pocket. “Now, Bobby,” announced the strident tones of the Baroness Gobelli from the other side of the balcony, “leave off picking the shrimps! You’ve ’ad more than enough! Ain’t bread and butter good enough for you? What’ll you want next?” “But, Mamma,” pleaded the youth, “I’ve only had a few! I’ve been shelling Papa’s all this time!” “Put ’em down at once, I say!” reiterated the Baroness, “’ere William, take Bobby’s plate away! He’s ’ad plenty for this morning!” “But I haven’t begun yet. I’m hungry!” remonstrated Bobby. “Take ’is plate away!” roared the Baroness. “’Ang it all! Can’t you ’ear what I say?” “Mein tear! mein tear!” ejaculated the Herr Baron in a subdued voice. “Leave me alone, Gustave! Do you suppose I can’t manage my own son? He ain’t yours! ’E’d make ’imself ill if I didn’t look after him. Take ’is plate away, at once!” The man-servant William lifted the plate of peeled shrimps and bread and butter from the table, whilst Bobby with a very red face rose from his seat and rushed down the steps to the beach. “He! he! he!” cackled the Baroness, “that’ll teach ’im not to fiddle with ’is food another time! Bobby don’t care for an empty belly!” “What a shame!” murmured Margaret, who was nothing if she was not a mother, “now the poor boy will go without his breakfast.” Presently, William was to be seen sneaking past the Hotel with a parcel in his hands. The Baroness pounced upon him like a cat upon a mouse. “William!” she cried from the balcony, “what ’ave you got in your ’and?” “Summat of my own, my lady!” “Bring it ’ere!”