"True. Since I retired from active affairs I have no business. That is awkward, is it not? May I ask in what line you are engaged?"
"I am a cotton factor."
"Then I shall open an account with you. I shall give you money to invest. Come, there need be no deceit about that; I shall write you a check at once."
"That's hardly necessary, so long as we understand each other."
But Mr. La Branche insisted, saying:
"One lie is all that I dare undertake. I have told two at the same time, but invariably they clashed and disaster resulted. There! I trust you to make use of the money as you think best. But enough! What do women know of business? It is a mysterious word to them. Now—piquet!" He dragged Norvin to a seat at a table, then trotted away in search of cards, his slippers clap-clapping at every step as if in gleeful applause. "Shall we cut for deal, M'sieu? Ah!" He sighed gratefully as he won, and began to shuffle. "With four hours of piquet every day, and a lie upon my conscience, I feel that I shall be happy in spite of this execrable smallpox."
Myra Nell's emotions may be imagined when, on the following morning, she learned who had broken through the cordon while she slept.
"Lordy! Lordy!" she exclaimed, with round eyes. "He said he'd do it; but I didn't think he really would."
She had flounced into Vittoria's room to gossip while she combed her hair.
"Mr. La Branche says it's all his fault, and he's terribly grieved,"
Miss Fabrizi told her. "Now, now! Your eyes are fairly popping out."