“Have you told him about me?”
“A little; not much.”
“Pourquoi?”
“Mademoiselle Pourquoi!... Oh, because you were none of his business.”
“Oh, I do not onderstan’, I do not onderstan’.” She clasped hands together with mock despair, and with the cunningest expression of bafflement on her face. “I do not onderstan’.... It ees ver’ difficult, ver’ difficult.”
“Shall we take the Metro or a taxi?”
“The Metro, of a certainty. It arrives, does it not? And the taxi—oh, it is very dear.”
“You’re a great little economist,” he said, laughingly, but nevertheless wonderingly. American girls had never been so careful to choose the less expensive of two methods.
As they were descending into the Metro they came suddenly face to face with Maude Knox, and Kendall felt himself blushing hotly, and was ashamed of himself for it, so he blushed even more hotly than before. He stopped determinedly, and held Andree’s arm.
“Miss Knox,” he said, “I want you to meet Mademoiselle—” He hesitated, for he did not know Andree’s family name. This piece of ignorance had never presented itself to him before. She had been Andree to him, and nothing more. She had needed no other name. “I want you to meet Mademoiselle Andree,” he finished, rather defiantly.