Here am I, telling you how wrong you are, and you listen in such a queer way that I end by putting myself in the wrong. One always feels with you as though one were in front of an indulgent judge, who graciously forgives one's faults. And yet it's you who are at fault!"
"Why, of course!" said Gilberte, all confusion.
"Then why do I look like a prisoner being judged?"
"Oh, but you don't!"
"Yes, I do. It's all very well for you to bend your head and all very well for me to rave and yell: any one would think that I was to blame and that you were making allowances. You must admit, it is enough to make one lose all patience."
Presumably, Mme. de la Vaudraye was afraid of growing still more impatient, for she went away without another word.
Gilberte called on her, next day, and kissed her affectionately. There was not a
