lf-past four. He had to go for a ride
with the two Du Buits. They're coming to tea here, too," said Germaine.

"Gone for a ride with the two Du Buits? But when?" cried Marie quickly.

"This afternoon."

"He can't be," said Marie. "My brother went to the Du Buits' house
after lunch, to see Andre and Georges. They went for a drive this
morning, and won't be back till late to-night."

"Well, but--but why did the Duke tell me so?" said Germaine, knitting
her brow with a puzzled air.

"If I were you, I should inquire into this thoroughly. Dukes--well, we
know what dukes are--it will be just as well to keep an eye on him,"
said Jeanne maliciously.

Germaine flushed quickly; and her eyes flashed. "Thank you. I have
every confidence in Jacques. I am absolutely sure of him," she said
angrily.

"Oh, well--if you're sure, it's all right," said Jeanne.

The ringing of the telephone-bell made a fortunate diversion.

Germaine rushed to it, clapped the receiver to her ear, and cried:
"Hello, is that you, Pierre? ... Oh, it's Victoire, is it? ... Ah, some
presents have come, have they? ... Well, well, what are they? ... What!
a paper-knife--another paper-knife! ... Another Louis XVI.
inkstand--oh, bother! ... Who are they from? ... Oh, from the Countess
Rudolph and the Baron de Valery." Her voice rose high, thrilling with
pride.

Then she turned her face to her friends, with the receiver still at her
ear, and cried: "Oh, girls, a pearl necklace too! A large one! The
pearls are big ones!"

"How jolly!" said Marie.

"Who sent it?" said Germaine, turning to the telephone again. "Oh, a
friend of papa's," she added in a tone of disappointment. "Never mind,
after all it's a pearl necklace. You'll be sure and lock the doors
carefully, Victoire, won't you? And lock up the necklace in the secret
cupboard.... Yes; thanks very much, Victoire. I shall see you
to-morrow."

She hung up the receiver, and came away from the telephone frowning.

"It's preposterous!" she said pettishly. "Papa's friends and relations
give me marvellous presents, and all the swells send me paper-knives.
It's all Jacques' fault. He's above all this kind of thing. The
Faubourg Saint-Germain hardly knows that we're engaged."

"He doesn't go about advertising it," said Jeanne, smiling.

"You're joking, but all the same what you say is true," said Germaine.
"That's exactly what his cousin Madame de Relzieres said to me the
other day at the At Home she gave