When the other day the tall factory chimney fell at Bradford, the birds which built in it had flown away before the workmen—stupidly eating their breakfasts till the bricks tumbled about their ears—had looked up and seen any danger.
CHAPTER V.
As Othmar leaned against the side of the yacht and let his eyes dwell on her face, unseen by him so long, his regard let something of the emotion which he felt escape him, and betrayed that the chill indifference with which he had met her again had been but the mere mask of pride, though it might be a mask which he would be strong enough always to wear in her presence.
‘Yonder is S. Pharamond,’ he said, conscious of his momentary loss of self-control, as he pointed to some round towers which rose above woods of ilex trees and magnolias. ‘If you would allow them to land me there instead of at Nice I should be grateful, and perhaps you would honour me with landing too: the house is somewhat neglected, as I have been away so long; but they will be at least able to give you a cup of tea.’
‘With pleasure, if Wilkes likes it,’ said the Princess, as she joined her friend. ‘I never knew you had a place upon this coast; surely you never named it when—when I knew you first?’
‘Most likely not,’ said Othmar, ‘I have been seldom there. It was a favourite house of my father’s in his rare moments of leisure, but I have never cared for the air or for the world of Nice. I have lent it sometimes to my friends.’
‘What do you not lend to your friends? In that respect you have made yourself honey, and the flies have eaten you without hesitation.’