Friends brought their friends and introduced them to the hostess, who in turn presented them to Barebone.

Some came from a distance, driving from Saintes or La Rochelle or Pons.

Others had taken houses for the bathing-season at Royan itself.
"He never makes a mistake," said the hostess to Dormer Colville, behind her fan, a hundred times, following with her shrewd eyes the gay and easy movements of Loo, who seemed to be taught by some instinct to suit his manner to his interlocutor.
To-night there was more music and less conversation.
"Play him to sleep," Dormer Colville had said to his cousin.

And at length Turner succumbed to the soft effect of a sonata.

He even snored in the shade of a palm, and the gaiety of the proceedings in no way suffered.
It was only Colville who seemed uneasy and always urged any who were talking earnestly to keep out of earshot of the sleeping Englishman.
Once or twice he took Barebone by the arm and led him to the other end of the room, for he was always the centre of the liveliest group and led the laughter there.
"Oh! but he is charming, my dear," more than one guest whispered to Mrs.
St.Pierre Lawrence, as they took their departure.
"He will do--he will do," the men said with a new light of hope in their grave faces.
Nearly all had gone when John Turner at length woke up.