"But you can be sorry that you were rude."
The entreaty in the eyes almost melted him, but he said no more. She slipped down very reluctantly, and went across to where madame was playing chess.
"I am sorry I was rude," she said slowly. "I will kiss you now."
"You are a darling!" But for all that Madame Lepelletier longed to shake her.
Her father received her with open arms and rapturous caresses. She gave a little sob.
"You won't ask me again!" she cried. "I don't want anybody but just you, now that Auntie Dora is away."
"And I want you to love me best of all. Heaven knows, my darling, how dear you are!"
He spoke the truth. In this brief while he had grown to love her devotedly.
Madame Lepelletier was very sweet, but she did not consider it wise to rouse the child's opposition, since no one else could beguile favors from her.
Before they reached New York she had allowed herself to be persuaded to go at once to Grandon Park, and Floyd telegraphed, a little ambiguously, used as he was to brief announcements. Madame Lepelletier had made a half-resolve, piqued by his friendly indifference, that he should own her charm. She would establish a footing in the family.