“No, no!” he protested. “You must not think of me as one. Try and consider me your elder brother, or an old family friend, whichever you like best.”
She thanked him with one of her shy little glances. More than ever Sir John was glad that he had sat down.
“It is very, very difficult,” she continued, looking steadfastly at the ground. “Only—I have come face to face—with something terrible, and wholly unexpected trouble. I want to leave Paris to-day—this very day. I want to leave it for ever.”
He looked at her very gravely.
“But your sister?” he asked. “What of her? Have you quarrelled with her?”
The girl shook her head.
“No,” she answered. “I have not quarrelled with her. It is simply our point of view which is altogether different. I want to get away—to go to London. I cannot explain beyond that.”
“Then I am sure,” Sir John declared, “that I shall not ask you. I know nothing about the matter, but I feel convinced that you are right. You ought to have had better advice two years ago. Paris is not the place for two young girls. I presume that you have been living alone?”
She sighed gently.
“My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. She is Bohemian to the finger-tips. She makes me feel terribly old-fashioned.”