Part 1 (2/2)

Then she raised her eyes--dark eyes deep as trout pools; steady, confident, but rather sad eyes. They appeared to be puzzled by the eagerness with which he stepped forward and grasped her hand.

”Marjory!” he exclaimed. ”I did n't know you were in Paris!”

She smiled--a smile that extended no farther than the corners of her perfect mouth.

”That's to excuse yourself for not looking me up, Monte?”

She had a full, clear voice. It was good to hear a voice that he could recognize.

”No,” he answered frankly. ”That's honest. I thought you were somewhere in Brittany. But are you bound anywhere in particular?”

”Only home.”

”Still living on the Boulevard Saint-Germain?”

She nodded.

”Number forty-three?”

He was glad he was able to remember that number.

”Number sixty-four,” she corrected.

They had been moving toward the Metro station, and here she paused.

”There is no need for you to come with me,” she said. ”But I'd like to have you drop in for tea some afternoon--if you have time.”

The strangers were still hurrying past him--to the north, the south, the east, the west. Men and women were hurrying past, laughing, intent upon themselves, each with some definite objective in mind. He himself was able to smile with them now. Then she held out her gloved hand, and he felt alone again.

”I may accompany you home, may I not?” he asked eagerly.

”If you wish.”

Once again she raised her eyes with that expression of puzzled interest. This was not like Monte. Of course he would accompany her home, but that he should seem really to take pleasure in the prospect--that was novel.

”Let me call a taxi,” he said. ”I'm never sure where these French undergrounds are going to land me.”

”They are much quicker,” she suggested.

”There is no hurry,” he answered.

With twenty-four hours a day on his hands, he was never in a hurry.

Instead of giving to the driver the number sixty-four Boulevard Saint-Germain, he ordered him to forty-seven Rue Saint-Michel, which is the Cafe d'Harcourt.

It had suddenly occurred to Monte what the trouble was with him. He was lonesome.

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