"Faith," Mr. Linden said, "you remind me often of that Englishman
Madame D'Arblay tells about,—who to the end of his life declared that
his wife was the most beautiful sight in the world to him! Do you know
I think he will have a successor?"
Her colour rose bright, and for a minute she looked down at her diamonds. Then looked up demurely, and asked who Madame D'Arblay was?
"She was an English woman, an authoress, a maid of honour to the Queen.
Do you wish to know anything about the other two persons I alluded to?"
One sparkling flash of Faith's soft eye, was all she gave him. "No, I don't think I do," she said.
"You know enough already?—or too much? Faith—are Christmas roses to be in season all the year round?"
"I don't know,—but tea is. Suppose I go and see about it—Monsieur?"
"Eh bien—Mademoiselle," he said gravely but holding her fast,—"suppose you do!"
"Then we should have it."
"Undoubtedly, Mademoiselle! Vous avez raison."
"And what have you?" said Faith laughing.