This--this damned
French gambler had touched Sylvia's kind heart. Surely she couldn't care
for a man she had only known a month, and such an affected, dandified
fellow, too?
It was with relief that they both became aware a few moments later that
they were on the outskirts of Lacville.
"Here is the Chalet des Muguets!" exclaimed Sylvia. "Isn't it a funny
little place?"
The English lawyer stared at the bright pink building; with curiosity and
amusement. It was indeed a funny little place, this brick-built bungalow,
so fantastically and, to his British eyes, so ridiculously decorated with
blue china lozenges, on which were painted giant lilies of the valley.
But he had not long to look, for as the car drew up before the white gate
Madame Wachner's short, broad figure came hurrying down the path.
She opened the gate, and with boisterous heartiness welcomed Chester and
Sylvia into the neglected garden.
Chester looked round him with an involuntary surprise. The Wachners' home
was entirely unlike what he had expected to find it. He had thought to
see one of those trim, neat little villas surrounded by gay, exquisitely
tended little gardens which are the pride of the Parisian suburban
dweller.
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