The large house contained several young men who had daily work in Paris.

Others, like Madame Wolsky, were at Lacville in order to indulge their passion for play, and quite a number of people came in simply for meals.
Among these last, rather to Sylvia's surprise, were Monsieur and Madame Wachner, the middle-aged couple whom Anna Wolsky had pointed out as having been at Aix-les-Bains the year before, at the same time as she was herself.
The husband and wife were now sitting almost exactly opposite Anna and Sylvia at the narrow table d'hote, and again a broad, sunny smile lit up the older woman's face when she looked across at the two friends.
"We meet again!" she exclaimed in a guttural voice, and then in French, addressing Madame Wolsky, "This is not very much like Aix-les-Bains, is it, Madame ?" Anna shook her head.
"Still it is a pretty place, Lacville, and cheaper than one would think." She leant across the table, and continued in a confidential undertone: "As for us--my husband and I--we have taken a small villa; he has grown so tired of hotels." "But surely you had a villa at Aix ?" said Anna, in a surprised tone.
"Yes, we had a villa there, certainly.

But then a very sad affair happened to us--" she sighed.

"You may have heard of it ?" and she fixed her small, intensely bright eyes inquiringly on Anna.
Anna bent her head.
"Yes, I heard all about it" she said gravely.

"You mean about your friend who was drowned in the lake?
It must have been a very distressing thing for you and your husband." "Yes, indeed! He never can bear to speak of it." And Sylvia, looking over at the man sitting just opposite to herself, saw a look of unease come over his sallow face.