"At night what?" Julien asked.
Mademoiselle shook her head.
"Miladi Anne is not quite so cheerful as she seems. At night I fancy that she does not sleep too well. One hears her, and, alas! Monsieur Sir Julien, last night I heard her sobbing quietly."
"Lady Anne sobbing?" Julien exclaimed. "It seems impossible."
"Indeed, but women are strange!" Mademoiselle Rignaut sighed.
CHAPTER VIII
A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE
Lady Anne came gayly down to the street a few minutes later. She was still wearing the plain black gown and the simplest of hats. Nevertheless, she looked charming. Her fresh complexion with its slight touch of sunburn, her wealth of brown hair, and the distinction of her carriage, made her everywhere an object of admiration in a city where the prevailing type of beauty was so different.
"Poor mother!" she exclaimed, as they crossed the Place de l'Opéra.
"Tell me, was she very theatrical this morning, Julien?"
Julien smiled.