"Will you give me lodging for a few hours?--allow me to call your inn my head-quarters, while I look about for myself a little?" he continued with a most winning smile.
"And glad to receive you, sir," put in Mrs. Bent before her husband had time to reply. "Oar house is open to all, and especially to one as pleasant-speaking as you, sir."
"By the way," he said, stopping to pause when stepping before them indoors, as though he were trying to recall something--"Greylands? Greylands? Yes, that must be the name. Do you chance to know if a French lady is living anywhere in this neighbourhood? A Madame Guise?"
"To be sure she is, sir. She is governess at Greylands Rest. Within a stone's throw--as may almost be said--of this house."
"Ah, indeed. I knew her and her husband, Monsieur Guise, in France. He was my very good friend. Dear me! how thirsty I am."
"Would you like to take anything, sir?"
"Yes, I should; but not beer, or any strong drink of that sort. Have you any lemonade?"
John Bent had; and went to fetch it. The stranger sat down near the open-window, and gazed across at the sea. Mrs. Bent was gazing at him; at his very nice-looking face, so fair and bright, and at the wavy hair, light and fine as silken threads of gold.
"Are you English, sir?" demanded free and curious Mrs. Bent.
"Why do you ask the question?" he returned with a smile, as he threw full on her the light of his laughing blue eyes.