"Don't worry," he said soothingly. "I shan't enter us under our own names,
of course. What do you say to Smith--nice, inoffensive sort of name, don't
you think? 'G. Smith and sister'--I think that'll meet the necessities of
the case."

Ann giggled suddenly.

"It's all rather funny if it wasn't so--so--"

"Improper," supplied Tony obligingly.

"Call it unconventional," she supplemented. "It sounds better. And now do
go and order some food for 'G. Smith and sister.' Sister is literally
starving."

Half an hour later they were light-heartedly demolishing an excellent
dinner, and the manager of the Hotel de Loup was congratulating himself
upon the acquisition of two unexpected guests during the slack season.
Afterwards they made another pilgrimage up to the Roche d'Or to watch the
sunset.

When they had reached the top, Ann stood quietly at Tony's side, not
speaking. The wonderful beauty of the scene enthralled her, and words
would have seemed almost a profanation, breaking across the deep, stirless
silence which wrapped them round. Away to their right the golden disc of
the sun was sinking royally westward, bathing the mountains in a flood of
lambent light, and piercing the darkening blue of the sky with quivering
shafts of scarlet and orange and saffron. Across the snow-fields shimmered
a translucent rosy glow, so that they seemed no longer bleak and desolate,