the corner, and together they crossed the sunlit Boulevard and sat down under the awning of the Café du Cercle. Clifford bowed to everybody on the terrace, saying, “You shall meet them all later, but now let me present you to two of the sights of Paris, Mr. Richard Elliott and Mr. Stanley Rowden.”
The “sights” looked amiable, and took vermouth.
“You cut the studio today,” said Elliott, suddenly turning on Clifford, who avoided his eyes.
“To commune with nature?” observed Rowden.
“What’s her name this time?” asked Elliott, and Rowden answered promptly, “Name, Yvette; nationality, Breton—”
“Wrong,” replied Clifford blandly, “it’s Rue Barrée.”
The subject changed instantly, and Selby listened in surprise to names which were new to him, and eulogies on the latest Prix de Rome winner. He was delighted to hear opinions boldly expressed and points honestly debated, although the vehicle was