“Who told you that?” Noémie demanded. “I know very well. It was M. de Bellegarde. Why don’t you say yes? You are not polite.”
“I am embarrassed,” said Newman.
“I set you a better example. I know M. de Bellegarde told you. He knows a great deal about me—or he thinks he does. He has taken a great deal of trouble to find out, but half of it isn’t true. In the first place, I haven’t left my father; I am much too fond of him. Isn’t it so, little father? M. de Bellegarde is a charming young man; it is impossible to be cleverer. I know a good deal about him too; you can tell him that when you next see him.”
“No,” said Newman, with a sturdy grin; “I won’t carry any messages for you.”
“Just as you please,” said Mademoiselle Nioche, “I don’t depend upon you, nor does M. de Bellegarde either. He is very much interested in me; he can be left to his own devices. He is a contrast to you.”
“Oh, he is a great contrast to me, I have no doubt” said Newman. “But I don’t exactly know how you mean it.”
“I mean it in this way. First of all, he never offered to help me to a dot and a husband.” And Mademoiselle Nioche paused, smiling. “I won’t say that is in his favor, for I do you justice. What led you, by the way, to make me such a queer offer? You didn’t care for me.”
“Oh yes, I did,” said Newman.
“How so?”
“It would have given me real pleasure to see you married to a respectable young fellow.”