was vexed at his blushes, and determined not to be abashed.
"Ah, what am I?" demanded Madame Clairin, swinging open her fan. "I'm the dullest thing here. They've not had your success with my sister-in-law."
"It would have been very easy to have it. Madame de Mauves is kindness itself."
"To her own countrymen!"
Longmore remained silent; he hated the talk. Madame Clairin looked at him a moment, and then turned her head and surveyed Euphemia, to whom M. de Chalumeau was serving up another epigram, which she was receiving with a slight droop of the head and her eyes absently wandering through the window. "Don't pretend to tell me," she murmured suddenly, "that you're not in love with that pretty woman."
"Allons donc!" cried Longmore, in the best French he had ever uttered. He rose the next minute, and took a hasty farewell.
