"You came here to tell me this?" she asked.
"I came to tell you this and to ask if, though it will change no fact, you can forgive me for what I said in Paris."
She raised her eyes to answer. As she did so she saw Stainton turning the corner of the promenade.
"Here he is!" she whispered. "You are right: I didn't tell him anything. Wait. There will be another chance for us: I must have one word alone with you before—before——"
"Before," concluded von Klausen, "we say good-bye for the rest of our lives."
The Austrian had not been wrong; Stainton came up smiling.
"Think of you running into us down here!" he said. "I'm glad to see you." He invited the Captain to dinner, and the Captain, after a furtive glance at Muriel, accepted the invitation.
Nor was the dinner unsuccessful. Muriel, resolutely shutting her mind to the thought of so soon losing von Klausen, yet salving her conscience with the brief reflection that, as no positive wrong had been done, so the future was to be clean even of temptation, was almost happy. The Austrian, it is true, was somewhat silent; but Jim held himself altogether at the best.
"The fact is," he explained to von Klausen, "I believe that I've been homesick for a long time without knowing."
"And now," asked the Captain, looking about the pleasant little dining-room, "you have a home, yes?"