"I thought he would just praise my picture and give pleasure to Mr. Waterlow," Francie went on. "I thought he would just speak about my being engaged and give a little account; so many people in America would be interested."
"So many people in America—that's just the dreadful thought, my dear," said Mme. de Brécourt kindly. "Voyons, put it in your muff and tell us what you think of it." And she continued to thrust forward the scandalous journal.
But Francie took no notice of it; she looked round from Mr. Probert at the others. "I told Gaston I should do something you wouldn't like."
"Well, he'll believe it now!" cried Mme. de Cliché.
"My poor child, do you think he will like it any better?" asked Mme. de Brécourt.
Francie fastened her eyes on her a moment. "He'll see it over there—he has seen it now."
"Oh, my dear, you'll have news of him. Don't be afraid!" laughed Mme. de Cliche.
"Did he send you the paper?" the girl went on, to Mr. Probert.
"It was not directed in his hand," said M. de Brécourt. "There was some stamp on the band—it came from the office."
"Mr. Flack—is that his hideous name?—must have seen to that," Mme. de Brécourt suggested.
