“Not in the least. I meant walking over the eternal hills. See—I am dressed for it,” and she held out for his inspection a slender foot shod sensibly—at least, not too foolishly.
“And I may have—how much time?”
“Until five o’clock,” smiled the countess.
Selden was conscious that Madame Ghita and her companion had turned at the other end of the terrace and were coming back, but he kept his attention riveted on his companion—even, to his own ironic amusement, simulated an ardour he did not feel, and which caused her to rest curious eyes upon him.
“Splendid!” he cried. “Then here is the programme: we will go up to La Turbie, have lunch, walk along the Grande Corniche to Eze—do you know Eze?”
“No; is it a town?”
“Yes—a gem. And we will sit there and look at it and at the world stretched out beneath us, and when we are quite ready, a car will bring us back. Will that suit you?”
“It will be lovely!” and she permitted her eyes to caress him the merest bit. “But I would point out that it is I who am taking your time, not you mine. If you have something else to do....”
“Nonsense!” Selden broke in. “I may be an American, but I don’t work all the time! Come along!”
As they turned toward the steps, a bulky male figure suddenly loomed in front of them.