He looked at her a moment, and then he said-- "You are not changed; I find you quite the same." "I am sorry for that!" And she turned away.
"What are you doing ?" he asked.

"Where are you going ?" She looked about her, without answering, up and down the little terrace.
The Casino at Blanquais was a much more modest place of reunion than the Conversation-house at Baden-Baden.

It was a small, low structure of brightly painted wood, containing but three or four rooms, and furnished all along its front with a narrow covered gallery, which offered a delusive shelter from the rougher moods of the fine, fresh weather.
It was somewhat rude and shabby--the subscription for the season was low--but it had a simple picturesqueness.

Its little terrace was a very convenient place for a stroll, and the great view of the ocean and of the marble-white crags that formed the broad gate-way of the shallow bay, was a sufficient compensation for the absence of luxuries.

There were a few people sitting in the gallery, and a few others scattered upon the terrace; but the pleasure-seekers of Blanquais were, for the most part, immersed in the salt water or disseminated on the grassy downs.
"I am looking for my mother," said Angela Vivian.
"I hope your mother is well." "Very well, thank you." "May I help you to look for her ?" Bernard asked.
Her eyes paused in their quest, and rested a moment upon her companion.
"She is not here," she said presently.