"Yes—returning home from a trip to England," she answers.
"I knew you were American instantly," says Mrs. Odell. "We are also of that nationality."
"I am very glad," Reine answers, giving her a pensive smile. "Are you also bound for your native shore?"
"Not just now," the consumptive returns, with a smothered sigh. "I am in delicate health, and Doctor Franks here has recommended the climate of Italy for my health, with the additional advantage of a leisurely sea-trip in a sailing vessel. We are now making our way to Mentone, Italy."
[CHAPTER XXIII.]
"You are bound for Mentone, Italy!" Reine repeats, with a quiver of disappointment in her low voice. "Then I am going farther away from home every hour!"
"Yes," replies Doctor Franks. "Lucky thing for you, too, in your weak and debilitated condition. Mentone is a charming climate for invalids. Will set you up in less than no time. Then, when your roses are blooming again, we'll send you home to America."
"How long since you picked me up out of the water?" she asks.
"Three weeks," he replies.