“Yass; I goin’ sell my hotel.”
“He’s right!” exclaimed her companion, with joy; “and you’re right!”
“Well, ’tain’t sold yet,” she responded. She did not smile as she looked at him. He read trouble; some trouble apart from the subject, in her quiet, intense eyes.
“You know sombodie want buy dat?” she asked.
“I’ll find some one,” he promptly replied. Then they talked a little about the proper price for it, and then were very still until Mr. Tarbox said:
“I walked out here hoping to meet you.”
Madame Beausoleil looked slightly startled, and then bowed gravely.
“Yes; I want your advice. It’s only business, but it’s important, and it’s a point where a woman’s instinct is better than a man’s judgment.”
There was some melancholy satire in her responding smile; but it passed away, and Mr. Tarbox went on:
“You never liked my line of business”—