Francie asked. "They'll hate me. Before
they could turn round I should do something--in perfect innocence--that
they'd think monstrous."

"Well, what would that matter if HE liked you?"

"Oh but he wouldn't then! He'd hate me too."

"Then all you've got to do is not to do it," Delia concluded.

"Oh but I should--every time," her sister went on.

Delia looked at her a moment. "What ARE you talking about?"

"Yes, what am I? It's disgusting!" And Francie sprang up.

"I'm sorry you have such thoughts," said Delia sententiously.

"It's disgusting to talk about a gentleman--and his sisters and his
society and everything else--before he has scarcely looked at you."

"It's disgusting if he isn't just dying; but it isn't if he is."

"Well, I'll make him skip!" Francie went on with a sudden approach to
sharpness.

"Oh you're worse than father!" her sister cried, giving her a push as
they went to bed.

They reached Saint-Germain with their companions nearly an hour before
the time it had been agreed they had best dine; the purpose of this
being to enable them to enjoy with what remained of daylight a stroll on
the celebrated terrace and a study of the magnificent view. The evening
was splendid and the atmosphere favourable to these impressions; the
grass was vivid on the broad walk beside the parapet, the park and
forest were fresh and leafy and the prettiest golden light hung over
the curving Seine and the far-spreading city. The hill which forms the
terrace stretched down among the vineyards, with the poles delicate yet
in their bareness, to the river, and the prospect was spotted here
and there with the red legs of the little sauntering soldiers of
the garrison. How it came, after Delia's warning in regard to her
carrying-on--especially as she hadn't failed to feel the weight of her
sister's wisdom--Francie couldn't have told herself: certain it is that
before ten minutes had elapsed she became aware, first, that the evening
wouldn't pass without Mr. Flack's taking in some way, and for a certain
time, peculiar possession of her; and then that he was already doing so,
that he had drawn her away from the others, who were stopping behind to
appreciate the view, that he made her walk faster, and that he had ended
by interposing such a distance that she was practically alone with him.
This was what he wanted, but it was not all; she saw he now wanted a
great many other things. The large perspective of the terrace stretc