Lord Hubert Dacey had finally gone off in quest of the Duchess of Beltshire, charged by Mrs.Bry with the delicate negotiation of securing that lady's presence at dinner, the Stepneys had left for Nice in their motor-car, and Mr.Bry had departed to take his place in the pigeon shooting match which was at the moment engaging his highest faculties.
Mrs.Bry, who had a tendency to grow red and stertorous after luncheon, had been judiciously prevailed upon by Carry Fisher to withdraw to her hotel for an hour's repose; and Selden and his companion were thus left to a stroll propitious to confidences.

The stroll soon resolved itself into a tranquil session on a bench overhung with laurel and Banksian roses, from which they caught a dazzle of blue sea between marble balusters, and the fiery shafts of cactus-blossoms shooting meteor-like from the rock.

The soft shade of their niche, and the adjacent glitter of the air, were conducive to an easy lounging mood, and to the smoking of many cigarettes; and Selden, yielding to these influences, suffered Mrs.
Fisher to unfold to him the history of her recent experiences.

She had come abroad with the Welly Brys at the moment when fashion flees the inclemency of the New York spring.

The Brys, intoxicated by their first success, already thirsted for new kingdoms, and Mrs.Fisher, viewing the Riviera as an easy introduction to London society, had guided their course thither.