Indeed, he knew that the real reason why he had felt so depressed last night and even this morning was because he was parted from Sylvia.
But where was it all to end?
True, he had told Mrs.Bailey the truth about himself very early in their acquaintance--in fact, amazingly soon, and he had been prompted to do so by a feeling which defied analysis.
But still, did Sylvia, even now, realise what that truth was?
Did she in the least understand what it meant for a man to be bound and gagged, as he was bound and gagged, lashed to the chariot of the Goddess of Chance?
No, of course she did not realise it--how could such a woman as was Sylvia Bailey possibly do so?
Walking up and down the long platform, chewing the cud of bitter reflection, Paul de Virieu told himself that the part of an honest man, to say nothing of that of an honourable gentleman, would be to leave Lacville before matters had gone any further between them.

Yes, that was what he was bound to do by every code of honour.
And then, just as he had taken the heroic resolution of going back to Brittany with his sister, as Marie-Anne had begged him to do only that morning, the Lacville train steamed into the station--and with the sight of Sylvia's lovely face all his good resolutions flew to the winds.
She stepped down from the high railway carriage, and looked round her with a rather bewildered air, for a crowd of people were surging round her, and she had not yet caught sight of Count Paul.
Wearing a pinkish mauve cotton gown and a large black tulle hat, Sylvia looked enchantingly pretty.

And if the Count's critical French eyes objected to the alliance of a cotton gown and tulle hat, and to the wearing of a string of large pearls in the morning, he was in the state of mind when a man of fastidious taste forgives even a lack of taste in the woman to whom he is acting as guide, philosopher, and friend.
He told himself that Sylvia Bailey could not be left alone in a place like Lacville, and that it was his positive duty to stay on there and look after her....
Suddenly their eyes met.

Sylvia blushed--Heavens! how adorable she looked when there came that vivid rose-red blush over her rounded cheeks.

And she was adorable in a simple, unsophisticated way, which appealed to Paul de Virieu as nothing in woman had ever appealed to him before.
He could not help enjoying the thought of how surprised his sister would be.