Reggie spoke to me, but I scarcely heeded him. Now that the man I loved was near me I felt an increasing desire to get rid of this male encumbrance. True, he was rich, and I knew by my own feminine intuition that he admired me, but for him I entertained no spark of affection. Alas! that we always sigh for the unattainable. For me, the remainder of the meal was a dismal function. I longed to get another glimpse of that dark, bronzed face, and of the tow-haired woman whom he had preferred to me, but they were evidently sitting at a table in the corner out of sight. Ulrica knew the truth, and took compassion upon me by hastening the dinner to its end. Then we went forth again into the cool, balmy night. The moon shone brightly and its reflection glittered in a long stream of silver brilliance upon the sea, the Place was gayly lit, and the white façade of the Casino with its great illuminated clock shone with lights of every hue. Across to the Hermitage we strolled and took our coffee there. I laughed at Reggie’s pockets bulging with notes, for, the banks being closed, he was compelled to carry his winnings about with him. While we sat there, however, a brilliant idea occurred to him. “Nearly all these notes are small,” he said suddenly. “I’ll go into the Rooms and exchange the gold and small notes for large ones. They’ll be so much easier to carry.” “Ah!” cried Ulrica. “I never thought of that. Why, of course!” “Very well,” he answered, “I sha’n’t be ten minutes.” “Don’t be tempted to play again, old fellow,” urged Gerald. “No fear of that!” he laughed, and with a cigarette in his mouth strode away in the direction of the Casino. We remained there gossiping for fully half-an-hour, yet he did not return. It was only a walk of a couple of minutes from the Hermitage to the Casino, therefore we concluded that he had met some friend and been detained, for he, like Gerald, came there each winter and knew quite a host of people. One makes a large circle of acquaintances on the Riviera, many interesting but the majority undesirable. “I wonder where he’s got to?” Gerald observed presently. “Surely he isn’t such an idiot as to resume play.” “No. He’s well enough aware that there’s no luck after dinner,” remarked Ulrica. “We might, however, I think, take a last turn through the Rooms and see whether he’s there.” This suggestion was carried out, but although we searched every table we failed to discover him. Until ten o’clock we lounged about, then returned by the express to Nice. That he should have left us in that abrupt manner was certainly curious, but as Gerald declared he was always erratic in his movements, and that his explanation in the morning would undoubtedly be found entirely satisfactory, we returned together to the hotel, where we wished our companion good-night and ascended in the elevator to our own sitting-room on the second floor.