and imagine, in a man's way, that she had followed him to Nîmes. She
hurried on past him with a rapid side-glance. The situation was an
awkward one. She had her work to do by the old Roman baths and the
Druid's Tower on the hillside, and she could not leave Nîmes without
doing it.

When he came face to face with her, perhaps it would be best to give a
cold bow of formal recognition--the kind of bow that says "Good morning.
I'm busy. You're not wanted."

And yet, there was news for him in her possession of which he ought to
be informed. It was only fair to the man who had defended her at
considerable personal risk that she should do him this small service in
return. In her pocket was a cutting of an advertisement in a Parisian
paper, several days old, asking for the whereabouts of John Rivière.
Very possibly he had not seen it himself. It was only fair to let him
know of it. The stitches in his forehead, which she had noted as she
hurried past--these called mutely for the small service in return.

Elaine decided to wait until he recognized her, to give him the
advertisement, and then to conclude their acquaintanceship with a few
formal words of which the meaning would be unmistakable. Accordingly she
set her campstool not far away from him, and began her sketching in a
vigorous, characteristic fashion.

It was an hour or more before her intuition warned her that Rivière was
approaching from behind. As he passed, she raised her eyes quite
naturally as though to look at the subject she was finishing. Their eyes
met. Rivière raised his hat politely but without any special
significance. His attitude conveyed no desire to renew their