In the week that had gone by since Sylvia had paid her first visit to Lacville, the Villa had gradually filled up with people eager, like herself, to escape from the heat and dust of Paris, and the pleasant little table by the window had been appropriated by someone else.
When the young Englishwoman came into the dining-room, the Comte de Virieu got up from his chair, and clicking his heels together, bowed low and gravely.
She had never seen a man do that before.

And it looked so funny! Sylvia felt inclined to burst out laughing.

But all she did was to nod gravely, and the Count, sitting down, took no further apparent notice of her.
There were a good many people in the large room; parties of two, three, and four, talking merrily together, as is the way with French people at their meals.

No one was alone save the Comte de Virieu and herself.
Sylvia wondered if he felt as lonely as she did.
Towards the end of dinner the host came in and beamed on his guests; then he walked across to where Mrs.Bailey sat by herself.

"I hope Madame is satisfied with her dinner," he said pleasantly.