Footsteps sounded on the gravel-path and the footman returned, followed by a young man, smart in appearance and very simply dressed, in the rather out-of-date fashion adopted by some of our painters, with a turn-down collar and a flowing necktie of white spots on a blue ground.

The footman withdrew.

"Your name is André Beauny, I believe?" said Dolores.

"Yes, madame."

"I have not the honor . . ."

"I beg your pardon, madame. Knowing that I was a friend of Mme. Ernemont, Geneviève's grandmother, you wrote to her, at Garches, saying that you wished to speak to me. I have come."

Dolores rose in her seat, very excitedly:

"Oh, you are . . ."

"Yes."

She stammered: