Presently they came to a small village, and here she would land and
lunch. And from somewhere behind the cabin Dmitry appeared, and was
sent on ahead, so that when they walked into the little hotel a simple
repast was waiting for them.

By this time Paul was absolutely enthralled. Never in his whole life
had he spent such a morning. His imagination was expanded. He saw new
vistas. His brain almost whirled. Was it he--Paul Verdayne--who was
seated opposite this divine woman, drinking in her voice, and
listening to her subtle curious thoughts?

And what were the commonplace, ordinary things which had hitherto
occupied his mind? How had he ever wasted a moment on them?

It was his first awakening.

When it came to the end--this delightful repast--he called the waiter,
and wanted to pay the bill; small enough in all conscience. But a new
look appeared round the lady's mouth--imperious, with an instantaneous
flash in her eyes--a pure, steel-grey they were to-day.

"Leave it to Dmitry," she said quickly. "I never occupy myself with
money. They displease me, these details--and why spoil my day?"

But Paul was an Englishman, and resented any woman's paying for his
food. His mouth changed, too, and looked obstinate.

"I say, you know--" he began.

Then she turned upon him.