“What expression is that?” asked Lily.
“Fortune-hunters,” said Aunt Cosy grimly.
“Fortune-hunters are not likely to come across my path,” the girl laughed gaily.
“No, not while you are at La Solitude.”
The Countess smiled, showing her large, good teeth, which somehow looked false—so even, so strong, so well matched in colour were they. But they were all her own.
As at last they turned to go into the house, the Countess said suddenly: “Another Sunday, my dear Lily, I should like you to go to the English service. It is the proper thing to do.”
Lily felt rather taken aback. “I thought of going this morning,” she said frankly, “but Cristina seemed to think you would be annoyed if I went off alone to try and find the place by myself.”
“I will see in the guide-book if there is an afternoon service,” said the Countess hesitatingly. “Your Uncle Angelo might escort you as far as the door of the hotel where the English clergyman now officiates. I should not like you to walk about Monte Carlo alone.”
There was a pause. “I think M. Popeau and Captain Stuart are coming to-day,” said Lily at last. She could not keep herself from blushing a little.
“Captain Stuart?” echoed the Countess sharply. “And who, pray, is Captain Stuart?”