"
"I mean this evening."
"But--you're not coming back! You're going another way. You told me----"
"Ah, that was before we were friends. Of course I'm coming back. I'd
like to stay to-morrow, and----"
"You certainly must not! I won't dine with you to-night if you do."
"Will you if I don't?"
"Perhaps."
"Then I'll order the dinner before I start for the cathedral. I want it
to be a perfect one."
"But--I've said only perhaps."
"Don't you want to pour a little honest gold into poor old Madame
Mounet's pocket?"
"Ye-es."
"If so, you mustn't chase away her customers."
"For her sake, the dinner is a bargain!"
"Not the least bit for my sake?"
"Oh, but yes! I've enjoyed our talk. And you've been so _nice_ about my
brother's pictures."
So it is settled. I put on my prettiest dress, white muslin, with some
fresh red roses Madame Mounet brings me; and the dinner-table in the
summer-house is a picture, with pink Chinese lanterns, pink-shaded
candles, and pink geraniums. Madame won't decorate with roses because
she explains, roses anywhere except on my _toilette_, "spoil the unique
effect of Mademoiselle."
The little inn on the canal-side buzzes with excitement. Not within the
memory of man or woman has there been so important a client as Mr. Jim
Wyndham. Most motoring millionaires dash by in a cloud of dust to the
cathedral town, where a smart modern hotel has been run up to cater for
tourists.
Pages:
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34