"Life goes on! The same round, is it not so?
Life and love and jealousy! Come, little monsieur, what have you to say ?" She turned to Max, sitting silent and attentive; but even as she turned, there was a flutter of interest among the tables behind her, and a young girl ran up, laying her hand upon her arm.
"Lize!" she said, with a little gasp.

"Lize! He is here--and I am afraid." Max looked up.

It was the girl he had pointed out to Blake as sitting at the table with the ugly, clever-looking man; and his eyes opened wide in fresh surprise, fresh interest as he studied the details of her appearance.

She was of that most attractive type, the fair _Parisienne_; her complexion was of wax-like paleness, her blonde hair broke into little waves and tendrils under her Pierrot hat, while her eyes, clear and blue, proclaimed her extreme youth.

As she stood now, clinging to the elder woman's arm, her mind showed itself in an utter naturalness, an utter disregard of the fact that she was observed.