"How did you get to Paris?"
"I don't know--by a bridge of associations, I suppose, resting one end on last year, and the other on the time when I was eleven years old."
"Very intelligible," said Mr. Carleton smiling.
"Do you remember that morning, Mr. Carleton?--when you took Hugh and me to the Marché des Innocens?"
"Perfectly."
"I have thanked you a great many times since for getting up so early that morning."
"I think I was well paid at the time. I remember I thought I had seen one of the prettiest sights I had even seen in Paris."
"So I thought!" said Fleda. "It has been a pleasant picture in my imagination ever since."
There was a curious curl in the corners of Mr. Carleton's mouth which made Fleda look an inquiry--a look so innocently wistful that his gravity gave way.
"My dear Elfie!" said he, "you are the very child you were then."