Lady Julia, he was informed on arrival, was out. The porter, politely genial, advised monsieur to seek her on the Promenade des Etrangers. She was there, on the same seat where she had left the book. 'Good morning,' he said. She had not seen him coming, and she started at his voice. The flush was back on her face as she turned to him. There was a look of astonishment in the grey eyes. He held out the two louis. 'I couldn't give them to you last night,' he said. A horrible idea seized him. It had not occurred to him before. 'I say,' he stammered--'I say, I hope you don't think I had run off with your winnings for good! The croupier wouldn't give them up, you know, so I had to grab them and run. They came to exactly two louis. You put on five francs, you know, and you get seven times your stake. I--' An elderly lady seated on the bench, who had loomed from behind a parasol towards the middle of these remarks, broke abruptly into speech. 'Who is this young man?' George looked at her, startled. He had hardly been aware of her presence till now. Rapidly he diagnosed her as a mother--or aunt. She looked more like an aunt. Of course, it must seem odd to her, his charging in like this, a perfect stranger, and beginning to chat with her daughter, or niece, or whatever it was. He began to justify himself. 'I met your--this young lady'--something told him that was not the proper way to put it, but hang it, what else could he say?--'at the casino last night.' He stopped. The effect of his words on the elderly lady was remarkable. Her face seemed to turn to stone and become all sharp points. She stared at the girl. 'So you were gambling at the casino last night?' she said. She rose from the seat, a frozen statue of displeasure. 'I shall return to the hotel. When you have arranged your financial transactions with your--friend, I should like to speak to you. You will find me in my room.' George looked after her dumbly. The girl spoke, in a curiously strained voice, as if she were speaking to herself. 'I don't care,' she said. 'I'm glad.' George was concerned. 'I'm afraid your mother is offended, Lady Julia.' There was a puzzled look in her grey eyes as they met his. Then they lit up. She leaned back in the seat and began to laugh, softly at first, and then with a note that jarred on George. Whatever the humour of the situation--and he had not detected it at present--this mirth, he felt, was unnatural and excessive. She checked herself at length, and a flush crept over her face. 'I don't know why I did that,' she said, abruptly. 'I'm sorry. There was nothing funny in what you said. But I'm not Lady Julia, and I have no mother. That was Lady Julia who has just gone, and I am nothing more important than her companion.' 'Her companion!' 'I had better say her late companion. It will soon be that. I had strict orders, you see, not to go near the casino without her--and I went.'