” “Let us say that Café Maston, in the Boulevard des Italiennes, at half-past seven then,” he decided. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. She caught her finger in the lock and had to ask him to help pry it out. With astonishment, Gerald saw a rheumy film rimming his old commander’s eyes. A cool gray light illuminated small portions of the stone floor. “I’m going to talk of indifferent themes,” said Ramage, a little fussily, “until these interruptions of the service are over. Then we find out. Louis the Fourteenth yet lived, and expectations were, therefore, indulged of assistance from France. Fearful that she had given herself away, she sank back down onto her stool.
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