dagua, Allaye!"

"I am your brother Atonquois, Allaye!"

"I am your brother Walgatchka, Allaye, best brother, you know--" So
spoke Geoffrey, looking at her with large, almost solemn eyes of
affection. Alvina smiled a little wanly, wondering where she was. It
was all so solemn. Was it all mockery, play-acting? She felt
bitterly inclined to cry.

Meanwhile Madame came in with the coffee, which she always made
herself, and the party sat down to breakfast. Ciccio sat on Alvina's
right, but he seemed to avoid looking at her or speaking to her. All
the time he looked across the table, with the half-asserted, knowing
look in his eyes, at Gigi: and all the time he addressed himself to
Gigi, with the throaty, rich, plangent quality in his voice, that
Alvina could not bear, it seemed terrible to her: and he spoke in
French: and the two men seemed to be exchanging unspeakable
communications. So that Alvina, for all her wistfulness and
subjectedness, was at last seriously offended. She rose as soon as
possible from table. In her own heart she wanted attention and
public recognition from Ciccio--none of which she got. She returned
to her own house, to her own room, anxious to tidy everything, not
wishing to have her landlady in the room. And she half expected
Ciccio to come to speak to her.

As she was busy washing a garment in the bowl, her landlady knocked
and entered. She was a rough and rather beery-looking Yorkshire
woman, not attractive.

"Oh, yo'n made yer bed then, han' yer!"

"Yes," said Alvina. "I've done everything."

"I see yer han. Yo'n bin sharp."

Alvina did not answer.

"Seems yer doin' yersen a bit o' weshin'."

Still Alvina didn't answer.

"Yo' can 'ing it i' th' back yard."

"I think it'll dry here," said Alvina.

"Isna much dryin' up here. Send us howd when 't's ready. Yo'll
'appen be wantin' it. I can dry it off for yer i' t' kitchen. You
don't take a drop o' nothink, do yer?"

"No," said Alvina. "I don't like it."

"Summat a bit stronger 'n 't bottle, my sakes alive! Well, yo mun
ha'e yer fling, like t' rest. But coom na, which on 'em is it? I
catched sight on 'im goin' out, but I didna ma'e out then which on
'em it wor. He--eh, it's a pity you don't take a drop of nothink,
it's a world's pity. Is it the fairest on 'em, the tallest."

"No," said Alvina. "The darkest one."

"Oh ay! Well, 's a strappin' anuff feller, for them as goes that
road. I thought Madame was partikler. I s'll charge