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Beebe, and as she spoke, her long narrow head
drove backwards and forwards, slowly, regularly, as though she
were demolishing some invisible obstacle. "We are most grateful
to you," she was saying. "The first evening means so much. When
you arrived we were in for a peculiarly mauvais quart d'heure."
He expressed his regret.
"Do you, by any chance, know the name of an old man who sat
opposite us at dinner?"
"Emerson."
"Is he a friend of yours?"
"We are friendly--as one is in pensions."
"Then I will say no more."
He pressed her very slightly, and she said more.
"I am, as it were," she concluded, "the chaperon of my young
cousin, Lucy, and it would be a serious thing if I put her under
an obligation to people of whom we know nothing. His manner was
somewhat unfortunate. I hope I acted for the best."
"You acted very naturally," said he. He seemed thoughtful, and
after a few moments added: "All the same, I don't think much harm
would have come of accepting."
"No harm, of course.


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