A broad, sanded path ran between the low picturesque buildings, and so the carriage was obliged to draw up at the entrance to the Impasse.
Senator Burton looked up at the cabman: "Better not take off the lady's trunk just yet," he said quickly in French, and though Nancy Dampier made no demur, she looked surprised.
They began walking up the shaded path, for above the low walls on either side sprang flowering shrubs and trees.
"What a charming place!" exclaimed the Senator, smiling down at her. "How fond you and your husband must be of it!"
But his companion shook her head. "I've never been here," she said slowly. "You see this is my first visit to Paris. Though I ought not to call it a visit, for Paris is to be my home now," and she smiled at last, happy in the belief that in a few moments she would see Jack.
She was a little troubled at the thought that Jack would be disappointed at her coming here in this way, with a stranger. But surely after she had explained the extraordinary occurrence of the morning he would understand?
They were now opposite No. 3. It was a curious, mosque-like building, with the domed roof of what must be the studio, in the centre. Boldly inscribed on a marble slab set above the door was the name, "John Dampier."
Before the bell had well stopped ringing, a sturdy apple-faced old woman, wearing the Breton dress Jack so much admired, stood before them.
Nancy of course knew her at once for Mère Bideau.
A pleasant smile lit up the gnarled face, and Nancy remembered what Jack had so often said as to Mère Bideau's clever way of dealing with visitors, especially with possible art patrons.