He nodded, and Clementina, turning her head, saw Quixtus, one of a party of four, two men and two ladies, threading their way between the chattering tables under the guidance of a waitress. They found places not far off. Quixtus sat down with his back to Clementina. “I wonder whom he has got hold of,” said Tommy. “She’s _awfully_ pretty,” said Etta, glancing at Mrs. Fontaine. “Passable,” said Tommy. “I don’t care for women who look like nuns.” “She doesn’t look a bit like a nun,” she contradicted. “She’s talking and laughing like anything.” Clementina said nothing, but studied the woman’s face. The portrait painter’s instinct arose. She would like to get her in the sitter’s chair and see what sort of a thing would come out on the canvas. The woman seemed to be the mistress of the feast. It was she who apportioned the seats and gave the orders; also it was she who led the animated conversation. The party seemed to be intimate. “Whatever the crowd is, they’re having a good time,” said Tommy, “An unusual thing for my uncle.” “Perhaps that’s because he’s crazy,” suggested Etta. “Perhaps,” said Tommy. “I should like to knock some sanity into him, though,” he added ruefully; “especially as things are at present.” “So should I,” remarked Clementina, and again she scrutinised the woman’s face. “Perhaps his reason will come back when he sees Etta!” cried Tommy, laughing boyishly. “I’ll go and present her.” “You’ll do no such thing,” said Clementina. But Clementina, when they had risen to leave the tea-room, found that she had counted without her hosts, who had arranged the crowded tables in such a manner that in order to reach the exit door, she and her charges had to pass immediately behind Huckaby, who sat facing Quixtus. Chance had also caused a temporary blocking of the gangway a little further on. The trio came to a compulsory standstill beside the quartette. Tommy stretched out a frank hand. “Hullo, Uncle Ephraim! What are you doing here?” Quixtus rose and took the proffered hand, but he did not answer the indiscreet question. “How d’ye do, Tommy? I hope I see you well.” Then he became conscious of Clementina, whom he greeted with stiff courtesy. “I must present you to Miss Etta Concannon,” said Tommy. “This is my uncle, Dr. Quixtus. We’ve been motoring all over France with Clementina. Had a gorgeous time.” Again Clementina looked at the woman with the nun’s face and the alluring eyes, and this time the woman looked at Clementina. Between the two pairs of eyes was a second’s invisible rapier play. Mrs. Fontaine broke into a laugh. “Won’t you introduce me, Dr. Quixtus?” And then, the introductions being effected—“I hope you’re staying a long while in Paris.” “We leave to-morrow,” snapped Clementina. “And you?” she asked, turning to Quixtus.