Then he went to bed.
Two mornings afterwards Zora came upon him on the Casino terrace.

He sprawled idly on a bench between a fat German and his fat wife, who were talking across him.

His straw hat was tilted over his eyes and his legs were crossed.

In spite of the conversation (and a middle-class German does not whisper when he talks to his wife), and the going and coming of the crowd--in spite of the sunshine and the blue air, he slumbered peacefully.
Zora passed him once or twice.

Then by the station lift she paused and looked out at the bay of Mentone clasping the sea--a blue enamel in a setting of gold.