An instant later they were sitting demurely at opposite ends of the seat, inspecting Villeneuve with interest.
In another moment Deane stood before them, puffing a cigarette, and wearing an expression of amiability tempered by boredom.
“Wonderful old place, isn’t it, Deane?” asked Charlie.
“Such a view, Sir Roger!” cried Dora, in almost breathless enthusiasm.
“You certainly,” assented Deane, “do see some wonderful sights on this Promenade. I’m glad I came up. The air’s given you quite a color, Miss Dora.”
“It’s tea-time,” declared Dora suddenly. “Take me down with you, Sir Roger. Mr. Ellerton, go and tell the others we’re going home to tea.”
Charlie started off, and Sir Roger strolled along by Miss Bellairs’s side. Presently he said:
“Still anxious to get to Paris?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?” she asked quickly.
“I thought perhaps the charms of Avignon would have decided you to linger. Haven’t you been tempted?”