After to-day--how strange, how utterly unnatural the parting seemed--she
would probably never see Paul de Virieu again.

* * * * *

The day went like a dream--a fantastic, unreal dream.

Sylvia did not see Count Paul again alone. She and Chester went a drive
in the afternoon--the expedition had been arranged the day before with
the Wachners, and there seemed no valid reason why it should be put off.

And then Madame Wachner with her usual impulsive good nature, on hearing
that both Chester and the Comte de Virieu were going away, warmly invited
Sylvia to supper at the Châlet des Muguets for that same night, and
Sylvia listlessly accepted. She did not care what she did or where she
went.

At last came the moment of parting.

"I'll go and see you off at the station," she said, and Chester, rather
surprised, raised one or two objections. "I'm determined to come," she
cried angrily. "What a pity it is, Bill, that you always try and manage
other people's business for them!"

And she did go to the station--only to be sorry for it afterwards.

Paul de Virieu, holding her hand tightly clasped in his for the last
time, had become frightfully pale, and as she made her way back to the
Casino, where the Wachners were actually waiting for her, Sylvia was
haunted by his reproachful, despairing eyes.