Later in the day Clementina received the reply from Etta. “_You darling, starting to-morrow. Arrive Lyons seven o’clock morning Thursday._” Tommy, fired by the picture made by the bend of the Rhone and the Château-Fort de la Bâtie, spent most of the day on the quay, with the paraphernalia of his trade, easel and canvas and box of colours and brushes, painting delightedly, while Clementina, beneath an uncompromising white umbrella with a green lining, bought on her travels, sat near by reading many tales out of one uncomprehended novel. Just before dinner she informed him of the almost immediate arrival of Etta Concannon. “Oh, I say!” he exclaimed in an injured voice. “That spoils everything.” “I don’t think so,” said Clementina. CHAPTER XI Clementina motored to Lyons by herself; dined in gaunt and lonely splendour at the Grand Hotel, and met Etta Concannon’s train very early the next morning. Etta, dewy fresh after her all night train journey, threw her arms round her neck and kissed her effusively. She was a heaven-born darling, a priceless angel, and various other hyperbolical things. Yes, she had had a comfortable journey; no trouble at all; all sorts of nice men had come to her aid at the various stages. She had been up since five standing in the corridor and looking at the country which was fascinating. She had no idea it was so full of interest. “And did one of the nice men get up at five too, and stand in the corridor?” asked Clementina. The girl flushed and laughed. “How did you guess? I couldn’t help it. How could I? And it was quite safe. He was ever so old.” “I’m glad I’ve got you in charge now,” said Clementina. “I’ll be so good, dear,” said the girl. The luggage secured, they drove off. Etta’s eyes sparkled, as they went through the ugly, monotonous, clattering streets of Lyons. “What an adorable town!” As it was not even lit by the cheap glamour of the sun, for the sky was overcast and threatening, it looked peculiarly depressing to normal vision. But youth found it adorable. O thrice blessed blindness of youth! “What has happened to Mr. Burgrave?” she asked, after a while, “I suppose his time was up and he had to go back.” “Oh, no,” said Clementina coolly. “He’s at Vienne.” “Oh-h!” said Etta, with a little touch of reproach. “I thought it was just going to be you and I and us two.” “We’ll put him in front next to Johnson and have the back of the car all to ourselves. But I thought you liked Tommy Burgrave.” “He’s quite harmless,” said Etta carelessly. “And he thinks of nothing in the world but his painting, so he won’t bother his head much about you,” said Clementina. Etta fell at once into the trap. “I’m not going to let him treat me as if I didn’t exist,” she cried. “I’m afraid you’ve been spoiling him, darling. Men ought to be shown their place and taught how to behave.”