“Never mind,” said Judy, “we’ll take a trip over the Esterel Mountains in a day or two. Mr. de Lisle hasn’t been out of Cannes since he first came here,” she told Mr. Colebridge, “but we’re planning some trips for next week.”
“You have your own automobile here?” inquired Mr. Colebridge.
“No, no,” Stephen said. “We mean to hire one.”
“But why do that, sir? Here is mine”—he waved his hand toward his property—“at your disposal. The chauffeur is a native of these parts, and I needn’t brag about the machine because you are well acquainted with its virtues. So why not make use of it, with or without its owner?”
“Oh, that’s very kind,” said Stephen, “but really … no, no, we couldn’t think of it. I don’t see why you should burden yourself with an irascible invalid. Do you, Judy?”
“Perhaps Mr. Colebridge will take us out some day, and see how he likes us,” said Judy, who wasn’t at all sure that she liked Mr. Colebridge. “But we certainly couldn’t commandeer your car, as you so kindly suggest.”
“I’m here alone,” said Mr. Colebridge, “the machine holds seven, and I don’t talk French. So you’d be doing me a real kindness. I’m staying at the Hotel Beaulieu. May I ask where you——?”
“We’re stopping at the Riviera,” Stephen told him. “Come and see us.”
“I shall avail myself of your kind invitation. I presume you play, Miss Pendleton?”
“Play? Oh, the Casino? I haven’t been yet, but I mean to go, when Mr. de Lisle is better. I’ve never gambled and I’m longing to.”