"Camille, dear, is it quite the thing to stand and comment on your neighbor, so?"
"Why, it's only Joyce, mother. And I won't any longer. She's out of sight now, anyway, and gone straight toward the station, too. But, I will maintain, she consults twice as much with that manager lately as with you, mother. You know that as well as I do."
A slight contraction of the Madame's smooth brow proved that the shaft had hit.
"Yes, that is probable enough. It isn't to be wondered at, either. He is her manager, and an excellent one. Camille, did you say Leon enclosed a note to Joyce in his last letter to you?"
The girl's face broke into a mischievous grin. "What made you think of that just now, dear? Yes he did, but it was a short one, and she didn't show it to me. I wish he would come home!"
The Madame sighed.
"So do I. After all, what prospects in life has a naval officer without private property? He must always be gone from home, where he may be exposed to unknown dangers. He can scarcely hope to form family ties."
"Humph! Joyce's husband needn't be in the navy, if she doesn't like to have him, mother."
"Hush, child, don't be absurd! They are like brother and sister."
"But they are not brother and sister, and I'm glad of it—if that Dalton will keep his distance. I don't know but it's my duty to make up to him, myself."