this Mme. de Cliche retired with no fresh sign of any sense of the
existence of Mr. Flack, though he stood in her path as she approached
the door. She didn't kiss our young lady again, and the girl
observed that her leave-taking consisted of the simple words "Adieu
mademoiselle." She had already noted that in proportion as the Proberts
became majestic they became articulately French. She and Mr. Flack
remained in the studio but a short time longer, and when they were
seated in the carriage again, at the door--they had come in Mr. Dosson's
open landau--her companion said "And now where shall we go?" He spoke
as if on their way from the hotel he hadn't touched upon the pleasant
vision of a little turn in the Bois. He had insisted then that the day
was made on purpose, the air full of spring. At present he seemed to
wish to give himself the pleasure of making his companion choose that
particular alternative. But she only answered rather impatiently:

"Wherever you like, wherever you like!" And she sat there swaying her
parasol, looking about her, giving no order.

"Au Bois," said George Flack to the coachman, leaning back on the
soft cushions. For a few moments after the carriage had taken its easy
elastic start they were silent; but he soon began again. "Was that lady
one of your new relatives?"

"Do you mean one of Mr. Probert's old ones? She's his sister."

"Is there any particular reason in that why she shouldn't say
good-morning to me?"

"She didn't want you to remain with me. She doesn't like you to go round
with me. She wanted to carry me off."

"What has she got against me?" Mr. Flack asked with a kind of portentous
calm.

Francie seemed to consider a little. "Oh it's these funny French ideas."

"Funny? Some of them are very base," said George Flack.

His companion made no answer; she only turned her eyes to right
and left, admiring the splendid day and shining city. The great
architectural vista was fair: the tall houses, with their polished
shop-fronts, their balconies, their signs with accented letters, seemed
to make a glitter of gilt and crystal as they rose in the sunny air.
The colour of everything was cool and pretty and the sound of everything
gay; the sense of a costly spectacle was everywhere. "Well, I like Paris
anyway!" Francie exhaled at last with her little harmonising flatness.

"It's lucky for you, since you've got to live here."

"I haven't got to; there's no obligation. We haven't s