"I am told," said I, "that Fuenterrabia's worth seeing."

"It's the show place about here," said Jonah. "Old as the hills.

That'll take a morning alone."

I yawned.

"There's a shop there," I said, "in the Calle del Puerto, where they sell some wonderful scent. I believe it's all good, but their 'Red Violets' is simply ravishing."

The girls p.r.i.c.ked up their ears.

"Who told you all this?" said Adele.

"I can't imagine," said I truthfully. "But she had a nice voice. You know--one of those soft mellifluous ones, suggesting that she's bored to distraction with everything except you." I took out a cigarette and looked about me. "Anyone got a match?" I added.

"Blow the matches," said my sister. "When did all this happen?"

"This afternoon," said I. "I'd always heard that San Sebastian----"

"Is she staying here?" said Adele.

"In the hotel? She didn't say."

"But how did you come to speak to her?" demanded my wife.

"I didn't," I said. "She spoke to me. I tell you I've always heard that San----"

"And you communed with her?" said Berry. "With your lawful wife working herself to death on the first floor unpacking your sponge-bag, you exchanged secrets of the toilet with a honey-toned vamp? Oh, you vicious libertine.... Will she be at the Casino to-night?"

"I didn't ask her."

Berry raised his eyes to heaven.

"You don't know her name; you never asked where she's staying, and you've fixed nothing up." He sighed heavily. "Some people don't deserve to get on."

"I hadn't time," I pleaded. "We got on to scent almost at once."

"Why scent?" said Jonah. "Or is that an indiscreet question?"

"Oh, that's easy," said Berry. "The scent was on the handkerchief he picked up. It's been done before."

"I don't understand," said Jill.

"I'm glad you don't, darling. One expert in the family is bad enough."

He nodded at me. "I used to think I was useful, till I'd seen that Mormon at work. Talk about getting off.... Why, he'd click at a jumble sale."

"Would he really?" said Adele interestedly. "I'd no idea he was so enterprising."

Berry shrugged his shoulders.

"My dear," he said, "he's a blinkin' marvel. Where you and I 'ld be standing outside a stage-door with a nervous grin and a bag of jujubes, he'd walk straight up TO a Marchioness, say, 'I feel I must tell you that you've got a mouth in a million,' and--_get away with it_. But there you are. In the present case----"

"--for once in a way," said Adele, "the lady seems to have made the running." She turned to me with a smile. "Well, Juan me lad, tell us some more about her. Was she fair or dark?"

I nodded at Berry.

"Better ask him," I said. "He knows more about it than I do."

"She was dark," said Berry unhesitatingly. "A tall willowy wench, with Continental eyes and an everlasting pout. Am I right, sir?"

"You may be," said I. "Not having seen the damsel...."

There was an outburst of incredulous objection.

"Sorry," I added, "but the liaison was conducted upon the telephone.

Just now. When I ordered the paper. The lady had no idea she was giving me counsel. So, you see, we're both blameless. And now may I have a match?"

"Well, I am disappointed," announced Adele. "I quite thought we were off."

"So did I," said Daphne. "And you never even---- Oh, it's spoiled my tea."

Even Jill protested that I had "led them on."

In some dudgeon, I began to wonder if I should ever understand women.

An hour and a half had slipped by.

Ready for dinner with twenty minutes to spare, I had descended to the lounge. There a large writing-table had suggested the propriety of sending a postcard to the sweetest of aunts, who, in the absence of evidence to the contrary, invariably presumed our death after fourteen days.

There being no postcards available, I started a letter....

For a page and a half my pen ran easily enough, and then, for no reason whatever, my epistolary sense faltered, laboured, and ceased to function.

I re-read what I had written, touched up the punctuation, and fingered my chin. I reviewed the past, I contemplated the future, I regarded my finger-nails--all to no effect. There was simply nothing to say.

Finally I rose and went in search of a waiter. There was, I felt, a chance that a Martini might stimulate my brain....

I returned to my seat to find that, while I had been gone, a heifer from another herd had come to drink at the pool.

Immediately upon the opposite side of the writing-table sat one of the prettiest women that I have ever seen. Her colouring was superb.

Beneath a snow-white skin all the wild beauty of a mountain-rose glowed in her cheeks; each time she moved, a flashing mystery of red and golden lights blazed from the auburn crown piled on her head; stars danced an invitation in the great grey eyes. Her small straight nose, the exquisite line of her face, her fairy mouth alone would have redeemed the meanest countenance. A plain black velvet dress, cut rather high at the throat, but leaving her lovely arms bare from the shoulder, and a complete absence of jewellery, showed that my lady knew how pictures should be framed....

With an effort I bent to my letter. From being difficult, however, the composition of another two pages of coherent prose had become formidable. Turning to the past, I could remember nothing. Looking into the future, I found myself blind. As for the present, I felt instinctively that a description of the curve of my _vis-a-vis'_ mouth would be out of place and might be misunderstood.

I observed suddenly that my lady had stopped writing.

After a moment she read over what she had written and put in two commas. Then she put a dash at the end of her last sentence. Such an addition had not occurred to me. For what it was worth, I adopted it surrept.i.tiously. When I looked up, the tips of four pointed fingers were being regarded with some severity. Finally the girl laid down her pen, and, propping her chin on two ridiculous fists, stared dismally upon the neutral zone between our respective blotting pads.