think, or at any rate to do, enough. We find out what we can—as we can."
Francie listened to this as if it had had the note of pathos. "What do you want to study up?"
"Everything! I take in everything. It all depends on my opportunity. I try and learn—I try and improve. Every one has something to tell, and I listen and watch and make my profit of it. I hoped you would have something to tell. I don't believe but what you've seen a good deal of new life. You won't pretend they haven't roped you in, charming as you are."
"Do you mean if they've been kind to me? They've been very kind," Francie said. "They want to do even more than I'll let them."
"Ah, why won't you let them?" George Flack asked, almost coaxingly.
"Well, I do," the girl went on. "You can't resist them, really; they have such lovely ways."
"I should like to hear you talk about their ways," her companion observed, after a silence.
"Oh, I could talk enough if once I were to begin. But I don't see why it should interest you."
"Don't I care immensely for everything that concerns you? Didn't I tell you that once?"
"You're foolish if you do, and you would be foolish to say it again," Francie replied.
"Oh, I don't want to say anything, I've had my
