Immediately
after breakfast, or what passed for it at Roville, he set out for the
Hotel Cercle de la Mediterranee to hand over the two louis to their
owner.
Lady Julia, he was informed on arrival, was out. The porter, politely
genial, advised monsieur to seek her on the Promenade des Etrangers.
She was there, on the same seat where she had left the book.
'Good morning,' he said.
She had not seen him coming, and she started at his voice. The flush
was back on her face as she turned to him. There was a look of
astonishment in the grey eyes.
He held out the two louis.
'I couldn't give them to you last night,' he said.
A horrible idea seized him. It had not occurred to him before.
'I say,' he stammered--'I say, I hope you don't think I had run off
with your winnings for good! The croupier wouldn't give them up, you
know, so I had to grab them and run. They came to exactly two louis.
You put on five francs, you know, and you get seven times your stake.
I--'
An elderly lady seated on the bench, who had loomed from behind a
parasol towards the middle of these remarks, broke abruptly into
speech.
'Who is this young man?'
George looked at her, startled. He had hardly been aware of her
presence till now. Rapidly he diagnosed her as a mother--or aunt. She
looked more like an aunt.
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