If he
thought much more of her, there would be a logical sequence on
his side. He laughed again--with an effort--and settled back in
his chair to renew his interest in the panorama revolving around
him.
"They certainly know how to live in these countries," he thought,
"for all their comic operas. All I need, to have this fairy
scene made complete, is a woman to talk to. By George, what's to
hinder me from finding one?" he added, seized by the spirit of
mischief. He turned his head this way and that. "Ah! doubtless
there is the one I'm looking for."
Seated alone at a table behind him was a woman dressed in gray.
Her back was toward him, but he lost none of the beautiful
contours of her figure. She wore a gray alpine hat, below the
rim of which rebellious little curls escaped, curls of a fine
red-brown, which, as they trailed to the nape of the firm white
neck, lightened into a ruddy gold. Her delicate head was turned
aside, and to all appearances her gaze was directed to the
entrance to the pavilion. A heavy blue veil completely obscured
her features; though Maurice could see a rose-tinted ear and the
shadow of a curving chin and throat, which promised much.
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