When the six strokes of the hour chimed out from the old parish church which forms the centre of the town of Lacville, as if by enchantment there rose sounds of stir both indoors and out.
A woman came out of the lodge of the Villa du Lac, and slowly opened the great steel and gilt gates.
Sylvia heard the rush of bath water, even the queer click-click of a shower bath.

M.Polperro evidently insisted on an exceptional standard of cleanliness for his household.
Sylvia felt fresh and well.

The languor induced by the heat of Paris had left her.

There seemed no reason why she should not get up too, and even go out of doors if so the fancy pleased her.
She had just finished dressing when there came curious sounds from the front of the Villa, and again she went over to her window.
A horse was being walked up and down on the stones of the courtyard in front of the horseshoe stairway which led up to the hall door.

It was not yet half-past six.