izes, and all that."

"Hm. I shall have nothing to do with it." She rose with dignity. "If my
niece had only held out a little finger--"

"It was a case, madame," he argued, rising, too--"it was a case in which
she couldn't hold out a little finger without offering her whole hand."

"You know nothing about it. I'm wrong to discuss it with you at all. I'm
sure I don't know why I do, except that--"

"Except that I'm an American," he suggested--"one of your own."

"One of my own! Quelle idee! Do you like him--this Englishman?"

He hedged. "Miss Guion likes him."

"But you don't."

"I haven't said so. I might like him well enough if--"

"If you got your money back."

He smiled and nodded.

"Is she in love with him?"

"Oh--deep!"

"How do _you_ know? Has she told you so?"

"Y-es; I think I may say--she has."

"Did you ask her?"

He colored. "I had to--about something."

"You weren't proposing to her yourself, were you?"

He tried to take this humorously. "Oh no, madame--"

"You can't be in love with her, or you wouldn't be trying so hard to
marry her to some one else--not unless you're a bigger fool than you
look."

"I hope I'm not that," he laughed.

"Well, I shall have nothing to do with it--nothing. Between my niece and
me--tout est fini." She darted from him, swerving again like a bird on
the wing. "I don't know you. You come here with what may be no more than
a cock-and-bull story, to get inside the chateau."

"I shouldn't expect you to do anything, madame, without verifying all
I've told you. For the matter of that, it'll be easy enough. You've only
to write to your men of business, or--which would be better still--take
a trip to America for yourself."

She threw out her arms with a tragic gesture. "My good man, I haven't
been in America for forty years. I nearly died of it then. What it must
be like now--"

"It wouldn't be so fine as this, madame, nor so picturesque. But it
would be full of people who'd be fond of you, not for the sou--but for
yourself."

She did her best to be offended. "You're taking liberties, monsieur.
C'est bien american, cela."

"Excuse me, madame," he said, humbly. "I only mean that they _are_ fond
of you--at least, I I know Miss Guion is. Two nights before I sailed I
heard her almost crying for you--yes, almost crying. That's why I came.
I thought I'd come and tell you. I should think it might mean something
to you--over here so long--all alone--to have some