She stopped short, for there, coming through the door, were the two Charolais, father and son.
M. Charolais pressed his motor-cap to his bosom, and bowed low. “Once more I salute you, mademoiselle,” he said.
His son bowed, and revealed behind him another young man.
“My second son. He has a chemist’s shop,” said M. Charolais, waving a large red hand at the young man.
The young man, also blessed with the family eyes, set close together, entered the hall and bowed to the two girls. The Duke raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.
“I’m very sorry, gentlemen,” said Germaine, “but my father has not yet returned.”
“Please don’t apologize. There is not the slightest need,” said M. Charolais; and he and his two sons settled themselves down on three chairs, with the air of people who had come to make a considerable stay.
For a moment, Germaine, taken aback by their coolness, was speechless; then she said hastily: “Very likely he won’t be back for another hour. I shouldn’t like you to waste your time.”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said M. Charolais, with an indulgent air; and turning to the Duke, he added, “However, while we’re waiting, if you’re a member of the family, sir, we might perhaps discuss the least you will take for the motor-car.”
“I’m sorry,” said the Duke, “but I have nothing to do with it.”