pleased with this poor prosaic Havre,
you will have no admiration left for better things. Don't spend your
admiration all the first day; remember it's your intellectual letter of
credit. Remember all the beautiful places and things that are waiting
for you; remember that lovely Italy!"

"I 'm not afraid of running short," she said gayly, still looking at the
opposite houses. "I could sit here all day, saying to myself that here I
am at last. It's so dark and old and different."

"By the way," I inquired, "how come you to be sitting here? Have you not
gone to one of the inns?" For I was half amused, half alarmed, at the
good conscience with which this delicately pretty woman had stationed
herself in conspicuous isolation on the edge of the _trottoir_.

"My cousin brought me here," she answered. "You know I told you I had a
cousin in Europe. He met me at the steamer this morning."

"It was hardly worth his while to meet you if he was to desert you so
soon."

"Oh, he has only left me for half an hour," said Miss Spencer. "He has
gone to get my money."

"Where is your money?"

She gave a little laugh. "It makes me feel very fine to tell you! It is
in some circular notes."

"And where are your circular notes?"

"In my cousin's pocket."

This statement was very serenely uttered, but--I can hardly say why--it
gave me a sensible chill At the moment I should have been utterly
unable to give the reason of this sensation, for I knew nothing of Miss
Spencer's cousin. Since he was her cousin, the presumption was in his
favor. But I felt suddenly uncomfortable at the thought that, half an
hour after her landing, her scanty funds should have passed into his
hands.

"Is he to travel with you?" I asked.

"Only as far as Paris. He is an art-student, in Paris. I wrote to him
that I was coming, but I never expected him to come off to the ship. I
supposed he would only just meet me at the train in Paris. It is very
kind of him. But he _is_ very kind, and very bright."

I instantly became conscious of an extreme curiosity to see this bright
cousin who was an art-student.

"He is gone to the banker's?" I asked.

"Yes, to the banker's. He took me to a hotel, such a queer, quaint,
delicious little place, with a court in the middle, and a gallery all
round, and a lovely landlady, in such a beautifully fluted cap, and
such a perfectly fitting dress! After a while we came out to walk to the
banker's, for I haven't got any Frenc