there is not a village where it would not dig you out at least one specimen of this tribe more or less perfect. Marie Rimbaut was perfect; she saw and recorded the whole of the Ribot story without putting out a hand to warn the protagonists, content to watch till the first snip of the scissors of Atropos.

Carstairs turned into the little shop to buy his cigarettes, found Marianne behind the counter and remained half an hour.

It was a case of love at first sight. The old woman in the back part of the shop saw and heard everything. Cerise was lying down or attending to household matters, for the two girls took it in turn to attend at the counter. It was the time of the day when customers are few, so there was little interruption and the young people had it all to themselves; but the listener heard nothing that might not have been said in the presence of a crowd. Toward the end of it Cerise appeared; she did not come forward but stood in the half-darkness amid the boxes and hanging baskets, watching and listening. From where she stood Carstairs was plainly visible with the light full upon him and Marianne in profile, her face upturned, laughing, and lit with a new interest.

Cerise did not notice the old woman seated knitting in the half-dark, or noticed her only as she might have noticed the hanging baskets and piles of cardboard boxes; she seemed fascinated by what she saw, and stood, her lips apart, smiling at the animation of her sister and her evident interest in the handsome stranger. Marianne was flirting!

Marianne of all people in the world! For, of the sisters, Marianne was the staid one.

“I will see you again,” said Carstairs, taking his leave.

“When you please,” replied Marianne, and off he went, while in came a soldier from the garrison for tobacco.

When he was gone Cerise came forward; it was her hour for taking on duty. There was a ledge behind the counter which was used as a seat when business was slack; and taking her seat on the ledge, Cerise produced from her pocket a small piece of embroidery work. She did not notice a yellow packet of cigarettes on the counter; her mind was engaged otherwise. Then suddenly she rose. A customer had entered; it was Carstairs.

Carstairs returned for his cigarettes, which he had paid for but forgotten to take away. Fancying that he was still talking to Marianne, he explained, laughing; she handed him the cigarettes, their fingers touched and then, 

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