"Well?"
"I wish--please--you must not say Mademoiselle. Nobody will address me so, shortly. Give me my name,--call me Marguerite. Je vous en prie."
And she looked up with a blush deepening the apple-bloom of her cheek.
"Marguerite? Does it answer for pearl or for daisy with you?"
"Oh, they called me so because I was such a little round white baby. I couldn't have been very precious, though, or she never would have parted with me. Yes, I wish we might drift on some lazy current for years. I hate to shorten the distance. I stand in awe of my father, and I do not remember my mother."
"Do not remember?"
"She is so perfect, so superb, so different from me! But she ought to love her own child!"
"Her own child?"
"And then I do not know the customs of this strange land. Shall I be obliged to keep an establishment?"
"Keep an establishment?"