"It might be all right if he'd only married the face. But he's married what
she calls her mind."

"Is he young?"

"Yes. And as good-looking in his own way as she is."

"Well--"

But the Countess of Southminster stirred, and the slight movement stopped
conversation.

The journey was endless, but it was no longer than the sleep of the
Countess. At length dusk and mist began to gather in the hollows of the
land; stations succeeded one another more frequently. The reflections of
the electric lights in the compartment could be seen beyond the glass of
the windows. The train still ruthlessly clattered and shook and swayed and
thundered; and weary lords, ladies and financiers had read all the
illustrated magazines and six-penny novels in existence, and they lolled
exhausted and bored amid the debris of literature and light refreshments.
Then the speed of the convoy slackened, and Audrey, looking forth, saw a
pale cathedral dome resting aloft amid dark clouds. It was a magical
glimpse, and it was the first glimpse of Paris. "Oh!" cried Audrey, far
more like a girl than a widow. The train rattled through defiles of high
twinkling houses, roared under bridges, screeched, threaded forests of cold
blue lamps, and at last came to rest under a black echoing vault.

Paris!