She could visit Mary in the morning.
Jim tabooed the idea of a hotel, but thought of Mrs. Winter, as most of
her acquaintances did think of her when they wanted practical advice or
help. Peter's luggage was transferred from the cab to Jim's automobile,
the sleepy _cocher_ was paid above his demands, and the happiest man on
the Riviera spun off alone with the happiest girl, in a closed motor
car, to Monte Carlo. The chauffeur was told not to drive fast.
Providentially, "St. George's" dreaded aunt had gone, having been told
by a doctor that the climate was too exciting for her state of health.
The Winters' spare room was free, and the chaplain and his wife were
delighted. News of Mary there was none except that, three or four nights
ago, she had called while George and Rose were at Nice and had taken her
jewel-case, leaving no message but "her love." Rose supposed that Mary
must have wanted some of her pretty things for an entertainment at the
Villa Mirasole. Prince Vanno had been away in Rome, but must be due, if
he had not already returned. Probably if Miss Maxwell went over to Cap
Martin in the morning she would see not only Mary but the Prince, who,
said Rose, "looked like a knight-errant or a reformer of the Middle
Ages, but, oh, so handsome and so young!"
"I thought when I first saw them together, the very evening of their
engagement," she added, "that there was something _fatal_ about them, as
if they were not born for ordinary, happy lives, like the rest of us.
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