In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. There was scant social life on the Sha-mien aside from masculine foregatherings, little that interested him. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. Lucy inhaled deeply. ’ ‘And now we know also who is the prétendant, Mademoiselle Charvill.
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