When these “confections” had been secured, Madame of the black satin and powdered nose assured Monsieur that his Christmas purchases would be incomplete without a certain blouse which, to an untutored eye, appeared to be a combination of sea-foam and rose-leaves.  There was a belt, too, crusted with seed pearls; and a hanging bag to match.  Oh, certainly Monsieur would take these, and anything else which Madame could conscientiously recommend.  She could, and did, recommend several other things; and no doubt it was a mere coincidence that they happened to be among the most expensive in the shop.  She also won Hugh’s gratitude by being able to produce a coat and a frock in which a little girl of five, already beautiful, would be more akin to fairyhood than ordinary childhood, and might become the “exception that would prove the rule” to an unbelieving Jane.

The cloak was pale blue; and another shop had to be searched for a hat to be worn with it, but Madame was most kind in directing Monsieur where to find one.  Her sister would serve him, therefore he would be well served.

On the way, he passed a jeweller’s; and exactly the right string of pearls, and the right “swallow brooch” stared him in the face, in the window.  It was odd, how all the prettiest things in the world, of whatever description, looked as if they ought to belong to Evelyn and Rosemary Clifford.  There was a gold bag, too; but that was a detail, for really the principal thing he had called for was a ring with a single diamond in it—­and perhaps—­well, yes—­that little sapphire band to keep it on a slender finger.

The rings, in their delicate cases, he put into his pocket when he had paid; but the other purchases were to go in that very same now which had been impressed upon the florist; the sort of now to which Riviera shopkeepers are accustomed only when they deal with Americans.

Then Madame’s sister was found, and a blue hat; and there was just time left for a frantic rush to a toyshop, round a corner and up a hill.  Perhaps Doll Evie might be jealous of one rival, but there’s safety in numbers; and Hugh thought that a dozen assorted sizes, from life-size down, would keep a doll’s house from echoing with loneliness.  As for the presents for the Eze children, Rosemary was to choose them herself by and by; but all these special things were to be served up, so to speak, at the Hotel Pension Beau Soleil with early breakfast.

When he had finished,—­which means, when he had bought everything he could think of—­Hugh looked at his watch.  It was half an hour to the minute since he had left his hotel.

“I don’t see why it should take women a long time to shop,” said he to himself.  “It seems to me the simplest thing in the world.  You just see what you want, and then you buy it.”

It was not until all the boxes and parcels must have arrived in the Condamine, that an agonizing thought struck Hugh.  What if Evie should be offended with him for buying her things to wear?  What if she should imagine him capable of thinking that the things she already had were not good enough when she was coming out with him?