‘I see,’ said Albinia. ‘I am sure that you are much too good and sensible at your age to waste a moment’s thought or pain on such a foolish boy, as he certainly is, Genevieve, though not so foolish in liking you, whatever he may be in the way of expressing it. Though of course—’ Albinia had floundered into a dreadful bewilderment between her sense of Genevieve’s merits and of the incompatibility of their station, and she plunged out by asking, ‘And how long has this been going on?’
Genevieve hesitated. ‘To speak the truth, madame, I have long seen that, like many other youths, he would be—very attentive if one were not guarded; but I had known him so long, that perhaps I did not soon enough begin, to treat him en jeune homme.
‘And this is his first letter?’
‘Oh! yes, madame.’
‘He complains that you will not hear him? Do you dislike to tell me if anything had passed previously?’
‘Thursday,’ was slightly whispered.
‘Thursday! ah! now I begin to understand the cause of your being suddenly moon-struck.’
‘Ah! madame, pardon me!’
‘I see—it was the only way to avoid a tete-a-tete!’ said Albinia. ‘Well done, Genevieve. What had he been saying to you, my dear?’
Poor Genevieve cast about for a word, and finally faltered out, ‘Des sottises, Madame.’