The man's face was curiously expressionless, but a momentary silence perhaps betrayed as much surprise as he was capable of showing.
"Miss Grex is not at home, sir," he announced.
Richard hesitated and just then she came out from the winter-garden. She was wearing a pink linen morning gown and a floppy pink hat. She had a book under her arm and a parasol swinging from her fingers. When she saw Lane, she stared at him in amazement. He advanced a step or two towards her, his hat in his hand.
"I took the liberty of calling to see your father, Miss Grex," he explained. "As he was not at home, I ventured to enquire for you."
She was absolutely helpless. It was impossible to ignore his outstretched hand. Very hesitatingly she held out her fingers, which Richard grasped and seemed in no hurry at all to release.
"This is quite the most beautiful place I have seen anywhere near Monte Carlo," he remarked enthusiastically.
"I am glad," she murmured, "that you find it attractive."
He was standing by her side now, his hat under his arm. The butler had withdrawn a little into the background. She glanced around.
"Did my father ask you to call, Mr. Lane?" she enquired, dropping her voice a little.
"He did not," Richard confessed. "I must say that I gave him plenty of opportunities but he did not seem to be what I should call hospitably inclined. In any case, it really doesn't matter. I came to see you."