in the brief half-hour of satisfaction which followed a cold
bath or a good dinner, and he had forgotten himself and his
surroundings. It was the voices of the people at the table
behind him that brought him back to the present moment. A man
was talking; he spoke in English, with an accent.

"I should like to go again through the Luxembourg," he said;
"but you need not be bound by what I do."

"I think it would be pleasanter if we all keep together," said
a girl's voice, quietly. She also spoke in English, and with
the same accent.

The people whose voices had interrupted him were sitting and
standing around a long table, which the waiters had made large
enough for their party by placing three of the smaller ones
side by side; they had finished their dinner, and the women,
who sat with their backs towards Carlton, were pulling on
their gloves.

"Which is it to be, then?" said the gentleman, smiling. "The
pictures or the dressmakers?"

The girl who had first spoken turned to the one next to her.

"Which would you rather do, Aline?" she asked.

Carlton moved so suddenly that the men behind him looked at
him curiously; but he turned, nevertheless, in his chair and
faced them, and in order to excuse his doing so beckoned to