"Oh, he has only left me for half an hour," said Miss Spencer. "He has gone to get my money."
"Where is your money?"
She gave a little laugh. "It makes me feel very fine to tell you! It is in some circular notes."
"And where are your circular notes?"
"In my cousin's pocket."
This statement was very serenely uttered, but I can hardly say why it gave me a sensible chill. At the moment I should have been utterly unable to give the reason of this sensation, for I knew nothing of Miss Spencer's cousin. Since he was her cousin, the presumption was in his favor. But I felt suddenly uncomfortable at the thought that, half an hour after her landing, her scanty funds should have passed into his hands.
"Is he to travel with you?" I asked.
"Only as far as Paris. He is an art-student, in Paris. I wrote to him that I was coming, but I never expected him to come off to the ship. I supposed he would only just meet me at the train in Paris. It is very kind of him. But he is very kind, and very bright."
I instantly became conscious of an extreme curiosity to see this bright cousin who was an art-student.
"He is gone to the banker's?" I asked.
"Yes, to the banker's. He took me to a hotel, such a queer, quaint, delicious little place, with a court in the middle, and a gallery all round, and a lovely landlady, in such a beautifully fluted cap, and
