phasis and as might almost have been
said without point, and your fancy that a little stiffness would have
improved her was at once qualified by the question of what her softness
would have made of it. There was nothing in her, however, to confirm
the implication that she had rushed about the deck of a Cunarder with a
newspaper-man. She was as straight as a wand and as true as a gem; her
neck was long and her grey eyes had colour; and from the ripple of her
dark brown hair to the curve of her unaffirmative chin every line in
her face was happy and pure. She had a weak pipe of a voice and
inconceivabilities of ignorance.

Delia got up, and they came out of the little reading-room--this young
lady remarking to her sister that she hoped she had brought down all
the things. "Well, I had a fiendish hunt for them--we've got so many,"
Francie replied with a strange want of articulation. "There were a few
dozens of the pocket-handkerchiefs I couldn't find; but I guess I've got
most of them and most of the gloves."

"Well, what are you carting them about for?" George Flack enquired,
taking the parcel from her. "You had better let me handle them. Do you
buy pocket-handkerchiefs by the hundred?"

"Well, it only makes fifty apiece," Francie yieldingly smiled. "They
ain't really nice--we're going to change them."

"Oh I won't be mixed up with that--you can't work that game on these
Frenchmen!" the young man stated.

"Oh with Francie they'll take anything back," Delia Dosson declared.
"They just love her, all over."

"Well, they're like me then," said Mr. Flack with friendly cheer. "I'LL
take her back if she'll come."

"Well, I don't think I'm ready quite yet," the girl replied. "But I hope
very much we shall cross with you again."

"Talk about crossing--it's on these boulevards we want a
life-preserver!" Delia loudly commented. They had passed out of the
hotel and the wide vista of the Rue de la Paix stretched up and down.
There were many vehicles.

"Won't this thing do? I'll tie it to either of you," George Flack said,
holding out his bundle. "I suppose they won't kill you if they love
you," he went on to the object of his preference.

"Well, you've got to know me first," she answered, laughing and looking
for a chance, while they waited to pass over.

"I didn't know you when I was struck." He applied his disengaged hand to
her elbow and propelled her across the street. She took no notice of
his observation, and Delia