"And my share?" inquired Marjory.
"One louis d'or," answered Monte unblushingly.
She fumbled in her bag and brought it out—the last she had. And Monte, in his reckless joy, handed that over also to Soucin. The man was too bewildered to do more than bow as he might before a prince and princess.
Monte led her up the incline through the heavy-leaved olive trees to her couch against the wall. It had been made up as neatly as in any hotel, with plenty of blankets and a pillow for her head.
"If you wish to retire at once," he said, "I'll go back to my side of the wall."
She hesitated. The wall was man-high and so thick that once he was behind it she would feel terribly alone.
"Or better still," he suggested, "you lie down and let me sit and smoke here. I 'll be quiet."
It was a temptation she would have resisted had she not been so tired physically. As it was, half numbed with fatigue, she removed her hat and lay down between the blankets.
Monte slipped on his sweater with the black "H" and took a place against the wall at Marjory's feet.
"All comfy?" he asked.