The hall of the Villa du Lac was brightly lit up, and as the victoria
swept up the short drive to the stone horseshoe stairway, the Comte de
Virieu suddenly grasped the other's hand.
"Good luck!" he exclaimed, "Good luck, fortunate man! As the Abbot at my
English school used to say to me when he met me, as a little boy, running
about the cloisters, 'God bless you!'"
Chester was rather touched, as well as surprised. But what queer,
emotional fellows Frenchmen are to be sure! Although Count Paul, as
Sylvia used to call him, had evidently been a little bit in love with her
himself, he was quite willing to think of her as married to another man!
But--but there was the rub! Chester was no longer so sure that he wanted
to marry Sylvia. She had become a different woman--she seemed to be
another Sylvia to the one he had always known.
"I'll just come out and tell you that it's all right," he said a little
awkwardly. "But I wish you'd come in--if only for a minute. Mrs. Bailey
would be so pleased to see you."
"No, no," muttered the other. "Believe me, she would not!"
Chester jumped out of the carriage and ran quickly up the stone steps,
and rang the bell.
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