"Have you quite forgotten me, Madame de Mellissie?"
"Forgotten you!" she returned, with a quick glance. "I never knew you, did I?"
"In the years gone by, when you were Miss Chandos. I am Anne Hereford."
A puzzled gaze at me, and then she hid her face in her hands, its penitent expression mixed with laughter. "Never say a word about that naughty time, if you love me! everybody says it should be buried five fathoms deep. I ought to have known you, though, for it is the same gentle face; the sweet and steady eyes, with the long eyelashes, and the honest good sense and the pretty smile. But you have grown out of all knowledge. Not that you are much of a size now. What an escapade that was! the staid Demoiselles Barlieu will never get over it. I shall go and beg their pardon in person some day. Were you shocked at it?"
"Yes. But has it brought you happiness?"
"Who talks of happiness at soirées? You must be as unsophisticated as ever, Anne Hereford. Has that Johnstone left?"
"A long, long while ago. She was dismissed at the end of a few months. The Miss Barlieus did not like her."
"I don't know who could like her. And so you are a governess?"
"Yes," I bravely avowed. "I have been nearly a year with the Miss Palers."
"You must get leave to come and see me. Alfred, here's an old schoolfellow of mine. I daresay you will remember her."