CHAPTER XXI
"What an extraordinary thing that you should come to St. Pierre de Chartreuse!" Terry Ricardo said to Sir Ian, elaborately unconscious that Nora had walked away, and gone into the house.
The two stood alone, together on the hotel balcony, for the landlord seeing that they were old acquaintances who had something to say to each other, vanished discreetly, to hurry after the young lady and show her the rooms which had been reserved on receipt of a telegram from Chamounix.
"Do you think it extraordinary?" Sir Ian asked, with an odd wistfulness in his tone.
"Why, yes. It is such a little village," said Terry. "So few English people have heard of it."
"I heard of it more than thirteen years ago, and never forgot," answered Sir Ian, looking over the hills into the sunset. "A girl described it to me once in India, and said she loved it. Since then I often thought I would come, if I needed peace and rest. From the description it seemed that kind of place."
"You mean—is it possible you remember a talk we once had?"
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