A flying attendant shot up to them with the wonderful velocity always displayed by the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons-Lits and deposited two cups of soup. By the time the omelette succeeded the soup they were chatting together in friendly fashion.

“It will be heavenly to get into the sunshine,” sighed Ruth.

“I am sure it will be a wonderful feeling.”

“You know the Riviera well?”

“No; this is my first visit.”

“Fancy that.”

“You go every year, I expect?”

“Practically. January and February in London are horrible.”

“I have always lived in the country. They are not very inspiring months there either. Mostly mud.”