“This is a very nice house,” said Boo with condescension to the owner of it when, three hours later, the maid and the clothes having arrived from Cannes, they went downstairs with no trace in either of their late immersion in salt water, and saw their host in his library.
“I am honored by your approval,” said Vanderlin.
“Boo is a great connoisseur,” said her mother.
Vanderlin was a tall and slender man, with a handsome face, spoiled by melancholy and fatigue; his eyes were dreamy and gentle, his manner was grave and gave the impression that his thoughts were not greatly in what he was saying; he at all times spoke little.
He smiled at the child indulgently. “I hope she has felt no ill effects,” he said to her mother. “Nor yourself?”
“They took too good care of us,” replied Mouse. “It is so very kind of you to have been so hospitable to two drowned rats.”
“I am happy to have been of use.” He said it with perfect politeness, but the tone suggested to her that he would be grateful if she went away and left him to his solitude.
The indifference stimulated her vanity.
“You have not told me who you are,” she said with that abruptness which in her was graceful. “But I think I know. You are Baron Vanderlin.”
He assented.