“I wish to learn something of men and—and women,” he murmured in the shell-like ear presented to him. “Of their passions, their desires, their—their follies.”
“Ah!” cried Mademoiselle Verbena. “Would that I could assist monsieur! But I am only an ignorant little creature, and know nothing of the world! And I shall be ever at the bedside of mamma.”
“You will give me your address? You will let me inquire for the countess?”
“Willingly; but I do not know where I shall be. There will be a message at the wharf. To what hotel goes monsieur?”
“The Grand Hotel.”
“I will write there when I have seen mamma. And meanwhile——”
They were coming into harbour. The heights of Mustapha were visible, the woods of the Bois de Boulogne, the towers of the Hotel Splendid.
“Meanwhile, may I beg monsieur not to——” She hesitated.
“Not to what?” asked Mr. Greyne most softly.
“Not to let anyone in England know that I am here?”