HAPTER XXVIII. FRANCINE.

"You're surprised to see me, of course?" Saluting Emily in those terms,
Francine looked round the parlor with an air of satirical curiosity.
"Dear me, what a little place to live in!"

"What brings you to London?" Emily inquired.

"You ought to know, my dear, without asking. Why did I try to make
friends with you at school? And why have I been trying ever since?
Because I hate you--I mean because I can't resist you--no! I mean
because I hate myself for liking you. Oh, never mind my reasons. I
insisted on going to London with Miss Ladd--when that horrid woman
announced that she had an appointment with her lawyer. I said, 'I want
to see Emily.' 'Emily doesn't like you.' 'I don't care whether she likes
me or not; I want to see her.' That's the way we snap at each other, and
that's how I always carry my point. Here I am, till my duenna finishes
her business and fetches me. What a prospect for You! Have you got any
cold meat in the house? I'm not a glutton, like Cecilia--but I'm afraid
I shall want some lunch."

"Don't talk in that way, Francine!"

"Do you mean to say you're glad to see me?"

"If you were only a little less hard and bitter, I should always be glad
to see you."

"You darling! (excuse my impetuosity). What are you looking at? My new
dress? Do you envy me?"

"No; I admire the color--that's all."

Francine rose, and shook out her dress, and showed it from every point
of view. "See how it's made: Paris, of course! Money, my dear; money
will do anything--except making one learn one's lessons."

"Are you not getting on any better, Francine?"

"Worse, my sweet friend--worse. One of the masters, I am happy to say,
has flatly refused to teach me any longer. 'Pupils without brains I
am accustomed to,' he said in his broken English; 'but a pupil with no
heart is beyond my endurance.' Ha! ha! the mouldy old refugee has an eye
for character, though. No heart--there I am, described in two words."

"And proud of it," Emily remarked.

"Yes--proud of it. Stop! let me do myself justice. You consider tears
a sign that one has some heart, don't you? I was very near crying
last Sunday. A popular preacher did it; no less a person that Mr.
Mirabel--you look as if you had heard of him."

"I have heard of him from Cecilia."

"Is _she_ at Brighton? Then there's one fool more in a fashionable
watering place. Oh, she's in Switzerland, is she? I don't care where she
is; I only care about Mr. M