“I remember you now,” he said. “Is Lady Lescelles in?” he asked the butler. “Like what, Lucy?” She saw the panic threaten to overtake him. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall. At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen.
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