On his return to the Plaza Mr. Sam Gwent tried to get some
conversation with Manella, but found it difficult. She did not wait
on the visitors in the dining-room, and Gwent imagined he knew the
reason why. Her beauty was of too brilliant and riante a type to
escape the notice and admiration of men, whose open attentions were
likely to be embarrassing to her, and annoying to her employers. She
was therefore kept very much out of the way, serving on the upper
floors, and was only seen flitting up and down the staircase or
passing through the various corridors and balconies. However, when
evening fell and its dark, still heat made even the hotel lounge,
cooled as it was by a fountain in full play, almost unbearable,
Gwent, strolling forth into the garden, found her there standing
near a thick hedge of myrtle which exhaled a heavy scent as if every
leaf were being crushed between invisible fingers. She looked up as
she saw him approaching and smiled.

"You found your friend well?" she said.

"Very well, indeed!" replied Gwent, promptly--"In fact, I never knew
he was ill!"

Manella gave her peculiar little uplift of the head which was one of
her many fascinating gestures.

"He is not ill"--she said--"He only pretends! That is all! He has
some reason for pretending. I think it is love!"

Gwent laughed.