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His appearance, tall and erect, was that of a retired officer, and his
clean-cut face was one of marked distinction.
I was telling my pretty companion something of my own life, how, because
I loved Italy so well, I lived in Tuscany in preference to living in
England, and how each year I came home for a month or two to visit my
relations and to keep in touch with things.
Suddenly she said--
"I was once in Leghorn for a few hours. We were yachting in the
Mediterranean. I love the sea--and yachting is such awfully good fun, if
you only get decent weather."
The mention of yachting brought back to my mind the visit of the _Lola_
and its mysterious sequel.
"Your father has a yacht, then?" I remarked, with as little concern as I
could.
"Yes. The _Iris_. My uncle is cruising on her up the Norwegian Fiords.
For us it is a change to be here, because we are so often afloat. We
went across to New York in her last year and had a most delightful
time--except for one bad squall which made us all a little bit nervous.


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