sun's setting until we came to the dull-looking town of Aubagne. After
that, the Southern darkness swooped in haste, and while we wound
tediously through the immense, never-ending traffic of Marseilles, it
"made night." All the length and breadth of the Cannebière burst into
brilliance of electric light, as if in our honor. The great street
looked as gay as a Paris boulevard; and as we turned into it, we turned
into an adventure.

To begin with, nothing seemed less likely than an adventure. We drew up
calmly before the door of a hotel whence a telephonic demand for rooms
must be sent to La Reserve, under the same management. It was the
chauffeur who had to go in and telephone, for the bridegroom is even
more helpless in French than the bride; and before Mr. Dane could stop
the car, Sir Samuel called out: "Keep the motor going, to save time. You
needn't be a minute in there. Her ladyship is hungry, and wants to get
on."

The chauffeur raised his eyebrows, but obeyed in silence, leaving the
motor hard at work, the automobile panting as impatiently to be off as
if "she" suffered with Lady Turnour.

No sooner was the tall, leather-clad figure out of sight than a crowd of
small boys and youths pressed boldly round the handsome car. Her
splendour was her undoing, for a plain, every-day sort of automobile
might have failed to attract.

Laughing, jabbering _patois_, a dozen young imps forced their audacious
attentions on the unprotected azure beauty. What was I, that I could
defend her, left there as helpless as she, while her great heart
throbbed under me?