Marie Delhasse turned her head half-round.

"You must not," said she, "let me prevent you having your cigarette. I
should set you at ease by going to bed, but I can't sleep so early, and
upstairs the fire is not lighted."

I thanked her and approached the fire. She was gazing into it
meditatively. Presently she looked up.

"Smoke, sir," she said imperiously but languidly.

I obeyed her, and stood looking down at her, admiring her stately beauty.

"You have passed the day here?" she asked, gazing again into the fire.

"In this neighborhood," said I, with discreet vagueness.

"You have been able to pass the time?"

"Oh, certainly!" That had not been my difficulty.

"There is, of course," she said wearily, "Mont St. Michel. But can you
imagine anyone living in such a country?"

"Unless Fate set one here--" I began.

"I suppose that's it," she interrupted.

"You are going to make a stay here?"