"Let us leave them at it!" exclaimed the older woman, suddenly. "It will be much nicer in the garden, Madame, for it is not yet too 'ot for out of doors. By the way, I forgot to tell you my name. That was very rude of me! My name is Wachner—Sophie Wachner, at your service."
"And my name is Bailey—Sylvia Bailey."
"Ah, I thought so—you are a Mees!"
"No," said Sylvia gravely, "I am a widow."
Madame Wachner's face became very serious.
"Ah," she said, sympathetically, "that is sad—very sad for one so young and so beautiful!"
Sylvia smiled. Madame Wachner was certainly a kindly, warm-hearted sort of woman.
They walked out together into the narrow garden, and soon Madame Wachner began to amuse her companion by lively, shrewd talk, and they spent a pleasant half hour pacing up and down.
The Wachners seemed to have travelled a great deal about the world and especially in several of the British Colonies.
It was in New Zealand that Madame Wachner had learnt to speak English: "My 'usband, 'e was in business there," she said vaguely.
"And you?" she asked at last, fixing her piercing eyes on the pretty Englishwoman, and allowing them to travel down till they rested on the milky row of perfectly-matched pearls.
"Oh, this is my first visit to France," answered Sylvia, "and I am enjoying it very much indeed."
"Then you 'ave not gambled for money yet?" observed
