roposed alliance calmly. He was not an impetuous suitor. With Widow
Ducrot he agreed that Claire was still too young to marry, and to
himself kept the fact that to remarry he was in no haste. In his mind
doubts still lingered. With a wife, young enough to be one of his
children, disorganizing the routine of his villa, would it be any more
comfortable than he now found it? Would his eldest daughter and her
stepmother dwell together in harmony? The eldest daughter had assured
him that so far as she was concerned they would not; and, after all, in
marrying a girl, no matter how charming, without a dot, and the daughter
of a boarding-house keeper, no matter how respectable, was he not
disposing of himself too cheaply? These doubts assailed Papa Paillard;
these speculations were in his mind. And while he speculated Billy
acted.

"I know that in France," Billy assured Claire, "marriages are arranged
by the parents; but in _my_ country they are arranged in heaven. And who
are we to disregard the edicts of heaven? Ages and ages ago, before the
flood, before Napoleon, even before old Paillard with his four children,
it was arranged in heaven that you were to marry me. So, what little
plans your good mother may make don't cut enough ice to cool a green
mint. Now, we can't try to get married here," continued Billy, "without
your mother and Paillard knowing it. In this town as many people have to
sign the marriage contract as signed our Declaration of Independence:
all the civil authorities, all the clergy, all the relatives; if every
man in the telephone book isn't a witness, the marriage doesn't 'take.'
So, we must elope!"

Having been brought up in a convent, where she was taught to obey her
mother and forbidden to think of marriage, Claire was naturally
delighted with the idea of an elopement.

"To where will we elope to?" she demanded. Her English, as she learned
it from Billy, was sometimes confusing.

"To New York," said Billy. "On the voyage there I will put you in charge
of the stewardess and the captain; and there isn't a captain on the
Royal Dutch or the Atlas that hasn't known you since you were a baby.
And as soon as we dock we'll drive straight to the city hall for a
license and the mayor himself will marry us. Then I'll get back my old
job from the Wilmot folks and we'll live happy ever after!"

"In New York, also," asked Claire proudly, "are you directeur of the
electric lights?"

"On Broadway alone," Billy e