"I've arranged for you at the Golden Peach. Madame Arlon knows." He handed Asticot a key. "There's plenty to do in my studio down there. Get some wood and make cases for my canvases. Cover the chassis with toile and prime them with white lead. Use an ivory palette knife and let them have the sun when there is any and when there is no wind and dust. That will keep you busy until I send for you. Do you comprehend?"
"Yes, M'sieu'.... May I not walk behind M'sieu' when he takes the air?"
Warner scowled at him, but he looked so exactly like a shiftless, disreputable and mongrel dog who timidly desires to linger, yet is fearful of a kick, that the American laughed.
"A fine bargain I have in you!" he said. "You prefer rambling to work, it appears!"
"I prefer the vicinity of M'sieu'," said Asticot naïvely.
"Go back to the inn and see if you can do an honest hour's work!" retorted Warner; and he turned and rejoined Sister Eila, who had taken D'Aurès up the steps of the terrace.
It appeared that the ladies were on the north terrace. On the way through the hall, Sister Eila excused herself and mounted the stairs for a look-in on Gray. At the same moment, Peggy Brooks came out of the billiard room, saw D'Aurès, recognized him.
"Oh," she said, extending her hand, "I am so glad you have come back! How is my Minerva runabout?"
"I'm sorry I don't know," he replied, blushing; "I didn't steal it for myself, you see."
"You didn't steal it! It's a gift. It's mine to give. I give it to you! My sister took all the credit of giving away the horses and cars. But I insist on your having my Minerva runabout. It's a charming car. You'll fall in love with it if they let you drive it. Come out to the terrace and speak to my sister and to my dearest friend, Philippa Wildresse."