"Do you mean one of Mr. Probert's? She is his sister."
"Is there any particular reason in that why she shouldn't say good-morning to me?"
"She didn't want you to remain with me. She wanted to carry me off."
"What has she got against me?" asked Mr. Flack.
Francie seemed to consider a little. "Oh, it's these French ideas."
"Some of them are very base," said her companion.
The girl made no rejoinder; she only turned her eyes to right and left, admiring the splendid day, the shining city. The great architectural vista was fair: the tall houses, with their polished shop-fronts, their balconies, their signs with accented letters, seemed to make a glitter of gilt and crystal as they rose into the sunny air. The colour of everything was cool and pretty and the sound of everything gay; the sense of a costly spectacle was everywhere. "Well, I like Paris, anyway!" Francie exclaimed at last.
"It's lucky for you, since you've got to live here."
"I haven't got to, there's no obligation. We haven't settled anything about that."
"Hasn't that lady settled it for you?"
"Yes, very likely she has," said Francie, placidly. "I don't like her so well as the others."
