"I wish I hadn't made you fond of me," she sighed.
"You didn't; you couldn't help it. But what shall I do? My life's no good to me; I shall be thinking of you, and longing for you when you've forgotten all about me."
She smoothed the ruffled hair.
"Think of me sometimes when you've got over it," she said; "think of me when you're going to do anything that isn't worthy of you now."
"I shall be true to you as long as I live," said the boy, understanding. "Mrs. Adaile——"
It was odd to her ear that he called her that a moment after she had been in his arms. "What?" she asked.
"When you go down to breakfast, I shall be in Paris."
"Yes," she said.
"Shall you read the papers by the window this morning?"
"Do you want me to?"