He's
at the opera to-night. Motored me over. We'll meet, and go back together
to Stellamare. Meanwhile----"
"Meanwhile, I rather guess, as you'd say, that you'd like to meet my
charming--er--acquaintance, and her friend."
"I _never_ say 'guess,' nor does anybody else, except in books or plays,
but I should like to meet the ladies."
"Madame d'Ambre is so busy regretting she didn't get smaller change for
her _protegee's_ unforeseen charities that she's forgotten us. I was
watching the fun at your table, toward the last."
At the sound of her name, the Frenchwoman turned. Four thousand francs
was gone forever, but there was as little use in wailing over money
wasted as in crying for spilt milk, so she smiled her pathetic,
turned-down smile at Captain Hannaford, and looked wistfully at Dick
Carleton. Then quickly, lest further irrevocable things should happen,
she laid her hand on Mary's arm. It was a gloved hand, and the glove had
been mended many times. Soon, it must be thrown away; but perhaps that
need not matter now. There might be a path leading to new gloves and
other things. She introduced Captain Hannaford to Mademoiselle Grant,
and he in turn introduced "Mr. Richard Carleton, the well-known airman,"
to them both. Madeleine could speak a little English, but with
difficulty, and preferred French. Still, it would have been unwise to
tell secrets in English when she was near.
Seeing that she had no intention of passing on the introduction,
Clotilde et Cie.
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