very gently to her side, looking up at her as a mother might have looked.  "Darling Julia, Monsieur de Sabron has never told you that he loved you?" 

 Julia shook her head. 

 "Not in words, ma tante." 

 There was a silence, and then Julia Redmond said: 

 "I only want to assure myself that he is safe, that he lives. I only wish to know his fate." 

 "But if you go to him like this, ma chère, he will think you love him. He must marry you! You are making a serious declaration." 

 "Ah," breathed the girl from between trembling lips, "don't go on. I shall be shown the way." 

 The Marquise d'Esclignac then said, musing: 

 "I shall telegraph to England for provisions. Food is vile in Algiers. Also, Melanie must get out our summer clothes." 

 "Ma tante!" said Julia Redmond, "our summer clothes?" 

 "Did you think you were going alone, my dear Julia!" 

 She had been so thoroughly the American girl that she had thought of nothing but going. She threw her arms around her aunt's neck with an abandon that made the latter young again. The Marquise d'Esclignac kissed her niece tenderly. 

 "Madame la Marquise, Monsieur le Duc de Tremont is at the telephone," the servant announced to her from the doorway. 

 CHAPTER XV JULIA'S ROMANCE 

 From her steamer chair the Marquise d'Esclignac asked: 

 "Are you absorbed in your book, Julia?" 

 Miss Redmond faintly smiled as she laid it down. She was absorbed in but one thing, morning, noon and night, waking or sleeping: when and where she should find him; how he was being treated. Had he been taken captive? He was not dead, of that she was sure. 

 "What is the book, Julia?" 

 "Le Conte d'un Spahi." 

 "Put it down and let me speak to you of Robert de Tremont." 

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