"Or perhaps Florine," M. de Cliché interposed. "I should like to get hold of Florine."
"I did—I did tell him so!" Francie repeated, with her innocent face, alluding to her statement of a moment before and speaking as if she thought the circumstance detracted from the offence.
"So did I—so did we all!" said Mine, de Cliché.
"And will he suffer—as you suffer?" Francie continued, appealing to Mr. Probert.
"Suffer, suffer? He'll die!" cried the old man. "However, I won't answer for him; he'll tell you himself, when he returns."
"He'll die?" asked Francie, with expanded eyes.
"He'll never return—how can he show himself?" said Mme. de Cliché.
"That's not true—he'll come back to stand by me!" the girl flashed out.
"How could you not feel that we were the last—the very last?" asked Mr. Probert, very gently. "How could you not feel that my son was the very last—?"
"C'est un sens qui lui manque!" commented Mme. de Cliché.
"Let her go, papa—do let her go home," Mme. de Brécourt pleaded.
"Surely. That's the only place for her to-day!" the elder sister continued.
