"Ah, your father?" Paul responded, as she offered him her hand.
"Oh dear no, this isn't in my poor father's line. I mean Mr. St. George. He has just left me to speak to some one—he's coming back. It's he who brought me—wasn't it charming?"
"Ah, that gives him a pull over me—I couldn't have 'brought' you, could I?"
"If you had been so kind as to propose it—why not you as well as he?" the girl asked, with a face which expressed no cheap coquetry, but simply affirmed a happy fact.
"Why, he's a père de famille. They have privileges," Paul Overt explained. And then, quickly: "Will you go to see places with me?" he broke out.
"Anything you like!" she smiled. "I know what you mean, that girls have to have a lot of people———" She interrupted herself to say: "I don't know; I'm free. I have always been like that," she went on; "I can go anywhere with any one. I'm so glad to meet you," she added, with a sweet distinctness that made the people near her turn round.
"Let me at least repay that speech by taking you out of this squash," said Paul Overt. "Surely people are not happy here!"
"No, they are mornes, aren't they? But I am very happy indeed, and I promised Mr. St. George to remain in this spot till he comes back. He's going to take me away. They send him invitations for things of this sort—more than he wants. It was so kind of him to think of me."
"They also send me invitations of this kind—more than I want. And if thinking of you will do it———!" Paul went on.
