so many against one; Gaston was far away and she felt heroic. "If you mean Mr. Flack—I don't know what you mean," she said as composedly as possible to M. de Cliché. "Mr. Flack has gone to London."
At this M. de Brécourt gave a free laugh and his brother-in-law replied, "Ah, it's easy to go to London."
"They like such things there; they do them more and more. It's as bad as America!" Mme. de Cliché declared.
"Why have you sent for me—what do you all want me to do? You might explain—I am only an American girl!" said Francie, whose being only an American girl, did not prevent her pretty head from holding itself now as high as Mme. de Cliché's.
Mme. de Brécourt came back to her quickly, laying her hand on her arm. "You are very nervous—you had much better go home. I will explain everything to them—I will make them understand. The carriage is here—it had orders to wait."
"I'm not in the least nervous, but I have made you all so," Francie replied, laughing.
"I defend you, my dear young lady—I insist that you are only a wretched victim, like ourselves," M. de Brécourt remarked, approaching her with a smile. "I see the hand of a woman in it, you know," he went on, to the others; "for there are
