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It was only as he was drawing his last breath, and she sat by his side and bent over him, forgetful of aught else, that it was for a while neglected; and it was this little moment that had caused Salvé such a mauvais quart d'heure on board the Juno.

"Don't misunderstand me, and take too gloomy a view of the situation," said Vane reassuringly. "They do other things besides. . . . Brilliant things, all most brilliantly written about; clever things, all most cleverly told. But whenever there's a sort of gap to be filled up, a mauvais quart d'heure after luncheon, the hero runs off and deals with a mouse.

During the mauvais quart d'heure before the meal, Charteris kept up an animated conversation with the Oldest Inhabitant, the Babe joining in from time to time when he could think of anything to say. Charteris appeared to be quite a friend of the family. He enquired after the Oldest Inhabitant's rheumatics. It was gratifying to find that they were distinctly better.

The picture has since haunted my memory; the mind goes back to it in a strange way, and the sentiment of it, as it was communicated to me, I find perfectly expressed in these lines by Alphonse Karr: 'De la solitaire demeure Une ombre lourde d'heure en heure, Se détache sur le gazon, Et cet ombre, couchée et morte Est la seule chose qui sorte Tout le jour de cette maison.

The mauvais quart d'heure before dinner had the usual sobering effect, and young people, who later on would be valsing together on the easiest of terms, now shyly looked over photograph books, and discoursed with an edifying amount of diffidence and respect.

In fact, the mauvais quart d'heure was really due to the innate womanly weakness of Mademoiselle Justine Delande. This guileless Swiss maiden had been carried off her feet by the romantic episode of the morning. Her cool palm still tingled with the meaning pressure of the handsome Major's hand! She had hastened away to her own apartment, as a wounded tigress seeks its cave for a last stand!

From the mediæval fortress, with its wealth of French and English history that Lydia and our guide poured into our willing ears, we crossed the Rue Gambetta to the little Café Rabelais, opposite the entrance to the château, where we spent a cheerful quart d'heure over cups of tea, and classic buns that are temptingly displayed in the window.

After a little while of waiting, the mauvais quart d'heure having the edge of its awkwardness taken off by a series of introductions, dinner was announced, and the Menghyi, followed by the Resident, led the way into an adjoining dining-room.

This seemed to arouse him, for he opened a drawer and took out a blank to be filled for a passport, with an impatient shrug of his shoulders, as it he was bored to death. Now followed the most hateful and trying quart d'heure I ever passed in my life.

There all the characters assemble disguised as elves and fairies. They give Falstaff a mauvais quart d'heure, and end by convincing him that his amorous wiles are useless against the virtue of honest burghers' wives.