"Frans Röy."
"Röy? That is our lady doctor's name—Miss Röy."
"Yes, she is his sister, he often talks of her."
"She is a fine-looking woman."
Alice drew herself up. "You should see him. When I walk with him in the street, people turn round to take another look at him. He is a giant! But not of the kind that run to muscle and flesh. No, very tall, agile."
"A trained athlete, I suppose?"
"Magnificent! His strength is what he is proudest of and delights most in displaying."
"Stupid? Frans Röy?——" She leaned back again, and Mary asked no more.
They had been late in setting out. Endless rows of returning carriages passed them. The three broad driving-roads of the Avenue were crowded. The nearer they came to the iron gate where these three meet in one, the more compact did the rows become. The display of light, many-coloured spring costumes on this first day of sunshine after rain was a unique sight. Amongst the fresh foliage the carriages looked like baskets of flowers among green leaves—one behind the other, one alongside of the other, without beginning, without end.