he was
paid to cherish in his bosom sulking alone!

That sweet lady's face, surprised and reproachful, rose before my eyes,
but I had no regrets. And instead of trembling with apprehension when I
saw that the couriers' room was empty, I rejoiced in the prospect of
lunching alone with the redoubtable chauffeur.

It was too early for the regular feeding hour of the _pensionnaires_,
maids, and valets, and we sat down opposite each other at the end of a
long table. A bored young waiter, with little to hope for in the way of
_pourboires_, ambled off in quest of our food. I began to unfasten my
head covering, and after a search for various fugitive pins I emerged
from obscurity, like the moon from behind a cloud.

With a sigh of relief, I smiled at my companion; and it was only his
expression of surprise which reminded me that he had been seeing me "as
through a glass darkly."

I suppose, unless you are a sort of Sherlock Holmes of physiognomy, you
can't map out a woman's face by a mere glimpse of eyes through a
triangular bit of talc, already somewhat damaged by exposure to sun and
wind.

It mayn't be good manners to look a gift motor-veil in the talc, but I
must admit that, glad as I was of its protection, mine was somewhat the
worse for certain bubbles, cracks, and speckles; so whether or no Mr.
Bane or Dane may combine the science of chauffeuring with that of
physiognomy, it's certain that he had the air of being taken aback.

Of course, I know that I'm not exactly plain, and that the contrast
between my eyes and hair is a little out of the common; so, as soon as I
remembered that he hadn't seen me before, I guessed more or less what
his almost startled look meant. Still, I suppose most girls--anyway,
half-French, half-American girls--would have done exactly what I
proceeded to do.

I looked as innocent as a fluffy chicken when it first sidles out of its
eggshell into the wide, wide world; and said: "Oh, I do hope I haven't a
smudge on the end of my nose?"

"No," replied the chauffeur, instantly becoming expressionless. "Why do
you ask?"

"Only I was afraid, from your face, that there was something wrong."

"So far as I can see, there's nothing wrong," said he, calmly, and
broke a piece of bread. "Very good butter, this, that they give to _nous
autres_," he went on, in the same tone of voice, and my respect for him
increased.

(Men are really rather nice creatures, take them all in all!)

As he had sacrifi