These mingling odours, suggested to the senses rather than
apprehended by them, mounted to Mary's brain, and set her heartstrings
quivering with unknown emotions sweet as pleasure and keen as pain.
As she went slowly down the hotel steps to walk across the _Place_ her
eyes held a new expression. When she had first told herself that she
could not stay at the convent, they had asked, looking toward the world,
"What is life?" Now they said, "I have begun to live, and I will go on,
on, no matter where, because I must know what life means."
Her cheeks were burning still from the first champagne she had ever
tasted, and the sweet air cooled them pleasantly. Seeing a number of
people on benches opposite the Casino, she decided to sit down for a few
minutes before going in. None of these benches was empty, but one was
unoccupied save for a young man and a girl, who sat at one end. Mary
rather timidly took the other corner, but the couple, after giving her a
long stare, returned to their conversation as if she were no more than a
shadow.
"This is the last, last straw!" the man grumbled, in English. "I thought
there was one missing."
"They never forget to add it to the rest," said the girl.
"Not they," he echoed. "And I wasn't doing so badly at one time. I've a
mind to apply for the _viatique_."
"I shouldn't have the courage."
"Oh, I should. I'd like to get something out of them. I hate the
Riviera, anyhow. There's too much scenery all over the place.
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