"What a persistent bird of ill-omen you are!" she said.
Then she glanced at the clock.
"Now I'm off. I shan't be back for lunch. So-long," she finished.
She went, leaving Miss Grainger with the feeling of a fresh, sweet breeze having been wafted through the room.
CHAPTER VI
In the large palm-decked patio of the hotel, Le Breton sat sipping coffee as he went through the newspapers solicitous waiters had placed on a table at his elbow. It was not often he came to the hotel, but when he did the whole staff was at his disposal, for he scattered largess with a liberal hand. He had lunched there, his gaze wandering over the crowded dining-room as if in search of someone; and afterwards he had stayed on.
It was now about three in the afternoon, an hour when the patio was practically deserted.
As he sat there reading, Pansy entered the big hall, still in breeches and leggings, just as she had returned from her ride. She would have passed through the patio without coming within his vision, except that something about the smooth black head was familiar.
So she changed her route and went in Le Breton's direction instead.