"I have prepared for two," said Mme Giras, smilingly. "Is it not right?"
"Thank you; but it will not be necessary," answered Rivière.
"After all my preparations! And the lunch that was to be my chef d'œuvre!" There was keen disappointment in her voice. "But perhaps mademoiselle will be coming to dine this evening?"
"No, nor this evening. Mademoiselle is very busy with her work. She is to leave Nîmes to-morrow."
"And monsieur also?" There was tragedy in her tone. It must mean that monsieur would give up his rooms to follow the young lady.
"I shall probably remain here for a month or more," answered Rivière somewhat stiffly: and then to salve her feelings: "You are making me wonderfully comfortable. I shall always associate the Midi with Mme Giras."
"Monsieur est bien amiable!" replied the little old lady, much pleased. She hurried off to the kitchen to see that Marie was making no error of judgment in the mixing of the sauces.
Rivière felt glad that the acquaintanceship with Elaine had progressed no further. It was decidedly for the best that it had ended where it had. Both of them had their life-work to call for all their energies. Further companionship would only divert them from it. In his innermost being he knew that, and now he acknowledged it frankly to himself. From every point of view, it was best that their acquaintanceship should end.
But late that afternoon a brief note came from Elaine. "Dear Mr Rivière," it said, "I have considered your warning. If you will be so kind as to accompany me this evening while I am sketching the Druids' Tower, I shall be glad. I propose to leave the hotel about eight."
Rivière was at her hotel punctually at eight. He helped her into her warm travelling cloak, and taking up her campstool and easel they walked briskly, with healthy, swinging strides, out by the avenue of plane trees bordering the Roman aqueduct.