She was bareheaded, but she balanced in her hand a large parasol,
with a deep border of embroidery; and she was strikingly, admirably pretty.
"How pretty they are!" thought Winterbourne, straightening himself
in his seat, as if he were prepared to rise.

The young lady paused in front of his bench, near the parapet of the garden,
which overlooked the lake. The little boy had now converted his alpenstock
into a vaulting pole, by the aid of which he was springing about in the gravel
and kicking it up not a little.

"Randolph," said the young lady, "what ARE you doing?"

"I'm going up the Alps," replied Randolph. "This is the way!"
And he gave another little jump, scattering the pebbles
about Winterbourne's ears.

"That's the way they come down," said Winterbourne.

"He's an American man!" cried Randolph, in his little hard voice.

The young lady gave no heed to this announcement, but looked
straight at her brother. "Well, I guess you had better be quiet,"
she simply observed.

It seemed to Winterbourne that he had been in a manner presented. He got
up and stepped slowly toward the young girl, throwing away his cigarette.
"This little boy and I have made acquaintance," he said, with great civility.
In Geneva, as he had been perfectly aware, a young man was not at liberty
to speak to a young unmarried lady except under certain rarely occurring
conditions; but here at Vevey, what conditions could be better than these?--