“Oh, I like him,” was the candid answer. “He is a chauffeur of moods, but he can make this car hum. He and I had quite a long chat last night after dinner.”
Mrs. Devar sat up quickly.
“After dinner—last night!” she gasped.
“Yes—I ran into him outside the hotel.”
“At what time?”
“About ten o’clock. I came to the lounge, but you had vanished, and the wonderful light on the sea drew me out of doors.”
“My dear Cynthia!”
“Well, go on; that sounds like the beginning of a letter.”
Mrs. Devar suddenly determined not to feel scandalized.
“Ah, well!” she sighed, “one must relax a little when touring, but you Americans have such free and easy manners that we staid Britons are apt to lose our breath occasionally when we hear of something out of the common.”