"How do you manage to get anywhere?"

"I wait for the next train. That's easy. But there's never another
opportunity."

He drew a cigarette from his case, put it in his mouth, and fumbled in his
pockets for matches. Finding none, he threw the cigarette into the road.

"That's just like you," cried Zora. "Why didn't you ask the cabman for a
light?"

She laughed at him with an odd sense of intimacy, though she had known him
for scarcely an hour. He seemed rather a stray child than a man. She longed
to befriend him--to do something for him, motherwise--she knew not what.
Her adventure by now had failed to be adventurous. The spice of danger had
vanished. She knew she could sit beside this helpless being till the day of
doom without fear of molestation by word or act.

He obtained a light for his cigarette from the cabman and smoked in
silence. Gradually the languor of the night again stole over her senses,
and she forgot his existence. The carriage had turned homeward, and at a
bend of the road, high up above the sea, Monte Carlo came into view,
gleaming white far away below, like a group of fairy palaces lit by fairy
lamps, sheltered by the great black promontory of Monaco. From the gorge on
the left, the terraced rock on the right, came the smell of the wild thyme
and rosemary and the perfume of pale flowers. The touch of the air on her
cheek was a warm and scented kiss. The diamond stars drooped towards her
like a Danaë shower. Like Danaë's, her lips were parted. Her eyes strained
far beyond the stars into an unknown glory, and her heart throbbed with a