I have so
little happiness; and this would at least give me an hour of
distraction."
"You can go without me," said Mary. "Captain Hannaford is your friend,
isn't he?"
"Ah, I see! The sight of the poor afflicted man disgusts you. If you
refuse, he will know why. It will be ungracious--cruel."
"Don't say that," Mary implored, much distressed. "I wouldn't hurt his
feelings for the world. It's true I _can't_ bear to look at him, though
he hasn't a bad face. But it isn't only that. I could try to get over
it. The other reason is, I never met him or Mr. Carleton before,
and--and I don't know anything about society, or what is done; but I
have a sort of feeling----"
"Mais mon Dieu!" murmured Madame d'Ambre. "Quelle petite sotte! No
matter. It is a pretty pose, and suits you well. I am the last to find
fault with it. Yet listen. These gentlemen are distinguished. Captain
Hannaford is an English officer who has been of a courage incredible. He
can wear many medals if he chooses. Now he is very sad, despite his luck
in the Casino. He needs cheering. And this young Monsieur Carleton, the
American, I have read of him in the papers. He is widely known as a man
who flies, and these airmen are of a nobility of character! I am your
chaperon. What more do you ask? I am the widow of a naval officer. Do
you not owe me something for the good turn I have done you to-night?"
"Yes, indeed, I owe you a great deal," Mary admitted.
It was quite certain that what Madame d'Ambre considered as owing to her
would be paid.
Pages:
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139