Night.
SIR ROBERT spoke to her to-day. As luck would have it, I was not at hand.
It has been cloudy, and when she went out for her walk this afternoon she forgot to take her umbrella. She is not timid about the weather, anyway. I have thought once or twice that she likes storms.
She was on her way back to the hotel when the storm broke—not far from the Arcade, where the moving pictures are shown. She took refuge in the entrance to the Arcade until the worst of the rain appeared to be over, then started out again through the wet.
Sir Robert appeared at her elbow, with an umbrella. She did not observe whether he had been following her or merely happened to meet her. He walked to the hotel with her. This was all she told me; but I am sure it was not quite all that occurred.
She asked if he was n't a judge.
“Yes,” I replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh,” said she—“it was something he said.”