"Scarcely, at twenty three or four." He pursed a judicial lip.
"Nor your sister?"
"No."
[Illustration: The Mount Vernon]
"Nor your wife?"
"No." He flushed here, although he answered simply.
"Nor your assistant in any way?"
His face lighted suddenly.
"Why not?" said he. "Can't you be my amanuensis,—that sort of thing, you see? Come, we must think of this. This is where my conscience hurts me—I can't bear to have my duty hurt you. That, my dear Countess, cuts me to the quick. You will believe that, won't you?"
"Yes, I believe that. Jeanne," she motioned to her maid who stood apart all this time, "my wrap, please. I find the air cool. When the body is weak or worn, my dear sir, the mind is not at its best; and I shall need all my wits."