"Yes, but those cows belong to me."
I laughed scornfully. Then:
"My aunt has four eggs," I said simply.
She turned away, ostensibly to pick a flower, but I saw her shoulders shaking. At length:
"There is a pig in the grass," she said. "Its name is Norval."
"The doll is on its hind legs," I replied, getting up. "As for me, is it not that I shall have been about to go? Adieu, mademoiselle."
"Er—au revoir, monsieur."
"That's better," said I. "And now, what's the trouble, my dear?"
Well, it was about the chauffeur. You see, she was spending the summer here in the chateau. Yes, the chateau above us, white on the hillside. She and a companion—a girl—alone, with a household of their own, very happy, very comfortable...
"We are really, you know. Don't think we're suffragists. Truth is, I'd got about sick of men, and thought I'd take a rest. I heard of this old place to be let furnished, came to see if it was half as nice as it sounded, and never even went back to England to collect Betty. Just couldn't leave it. Betty followed post-haste with the servants and heavy luggage, and—and—"