I obeyed her, and stood looking down at her, admiring her stately beauty.
“You have passed the day here?” she asked, gazing again into the fire.
“In this neighborhood,” said I, with discreet vagueness.
“You have been able to pass the time?”
“Oh, certainly!” That had not been my difficulty.
“There is, of course,” she said wearily, “Mont St. Michel. But can you imagine anyone living in such a country?”
“Unless Fate set one here—” I began.
“I suppose that’s it,” she interrupted.
“You are going to make a stay here?”
“I am,” she answered slowly, “on my way to—I don’t know where.”