Longmore heard a footstep in an adjacent by-path which crossed their own at a short distance from where they stood.
"It's M. de Mauves," said Euphemia directly, and moved slowly forward. Longmore, wondering how she knew it, had overtaken her by the time her husband advanced into sight. A solitary walk in the forest was a pastime to which M. de Mauves was not addicted, but he seemed on this occasion to have resorted to it with some equanimity. He was smoking a fragrant cigar, and his thumb was thrust into the armhole of his waistcoat, with an air of contemplative serenity. He stopped short with surprise on seeing his wife and her companion, and Longmore considered his surprise impertinent. He glanced rapidly from one to the other, fixed Longmore's eye sharply for a single instant, and then lifted his hat with formal politeness.
"I was not aware," he said, turning to Madame de Mauves, "that I might congratulate you on the return of monsieur."
"You should have known it," she answered gravely, "if I had expected Mr. Longmore's return."
She had become very pale, and Longmore felt that this was a first meeting after a stormy parting. "My return was unexpected to myself," he said. "I came last evening."
M. de Mauves smiled with extreme urbanity. "It's
