like a little girl hot and flushed after some frolic.
"Well," said I, as she straightened her skirt and pushed back her hair, "that's one on me all right. I've taken the elementary courses in human nature and knocked around the world a bit, but I'll be hanged if I could ever have spotted you for an American!"
"Wichita," said she.
"The rest wasn't hard to guess," I answered; "but how did you manage to spot me for an American?"
"I had my doubts from the first," she answered. "Your telling me that you were Alsatian put me off; then I thought you were English. I knew you weren't French French."
"What gave you the clue finally?" I asked.
"Your business methods."
"My what?"
Your scheme for drawing Chu-Chu off into the forest of Marly and having it out with your guns—or knives, or whatever comes handy. That doesn't match up with the local colour. What's your State? Arizona?"
"I've been there," I answered; "but never mind about me. I wish you'd tell me how it happens that a Wichita girl should be driving a Paris taxicab and speaking French like a Parisienne de Paris. Then you are titled, too."
Rosalie gave a little mock sigh. "Such is fame," says she. "Now, if you ever read the Matin and the Kansas City Star you'd know all about me. Not that there's such an awful lot to know. My father was Mr. Michael O'Rourke,
