Then he said “I took the liberty of calling, Mrs. Fawcett, because had the pleasure of your husband’s acquaintance in the States when he was lecturing there some years ago. I should like very much to renoo our—well—I venture to hope we might call it friendship. Is he with you at present? Are you expecting him out? I noticed his name was not mentioned in the local paper. But I put that down to a foreign custom, perhaps—giving precedence to the lady.” And here the stranger looked as though he might be going to smile. But as a matter of fact it was extremely awkward. Mother’s mouth shook. Milly squeezed her hands between her knees, but she watched hard from under her eyebrows. Good, noble little Mummy! How Milly admired her as she heard her say, gently and quite simply, “I am sorry to say my husband died two years ago.” Mr. Prodger gave a great start. “Did he?” He thrust out his under lip, frowned, pondered. “I am truly sorry to hear that, Mrs. Fawcett. I hope you’ll believe me when I say I had no idea your husband had ... passed over.” “Of course.” Mother softly stroked her skirt. “I do trust,” said Mr. Prodger, more seriously still, “that my inquiry didn’t give you too much pain.” “No, no. It’s quite all right,” said the gentle voice. But Mr. Prodger insisted. “You’re sure? You’re positive?” At that Mother raised her head and gave him one of her still, bright, exalted glances that Milly knew so well. “I’m not in the least hurt,” she said, as one might say it from the midst of the fiery furnace. Mr. Prodger looked relieved. He changed his attitude and continued. “I hope this regrettable circumstance will not deprive me of your——” “Oh, certainly not. We shall be delighted. We are always so pleased to know any one who——” Mother gave a little bound, a little flutter. She flew from her shadowy branch on to a sunny one. “Is this your first visit to the Riviera?” “It is,” said Mr. Prodger. “The fact is I was in Florence until recently. But I took a heavy cold there——” “Florence so damp,” cooed Mother. “And the doctor recommended I should come here for the sunshine before I started for home.” “The sun is so very lovely here,” agreed Mother, enthusiastically. “Well, I don’t think we get too much of it,” said Mr. Prodger, dubiously, and two lines showed at his lips. “I seem to have been sitting around in my hotel more days than I care to count.” “Ah, hotels are so very trying,” said Mother, and she drooped sympathetically at the thought of a lonely man in an hotel.... “You are alone here?” she asked, gently, just in case ... one never knew ... it was better to be on the safe, the tactful side. But her fears were groundless. “Oh, yes, I’m alone,” cried Mr. Prodger, more heartily than he had spoken yet, and he took a speck of thread off his immaculate trouser leg. Something in his voice puzzled Milly. What was it?