Montague Hill. Gianfrancesco stumbled belatedly onto the beach, his feet padding wet sand. Won’t you let me—can’t I be of any assistance?” He was obviously in earnest. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. “Hotel Ritz,” he said mechanically to the coachman. It was the grand nursery of vice. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. I’m a man, and I know what I mean. He knew my name, and also that I had been living in Paris, and a man doesn’t risk claiming a girl for his wife, as a rule, for nothing. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever.
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