"She wishes to get away from her mother," continued Madame Beaurepas. "She wishes to courir les champs."
"She wishes to go to America, her native country."
"Precisely. And she will certainly go."
"I hope so!" I rejoined.
"Some fine morning—or evening—she will go off with a young man; probably with a young American."
"Allons donc!" said I, with disgust.
"That will be quite America enough," pursued my cynical hostess. "I have kept a boarding-house for forty years. I have seen that type."
"Have such things as that happened chez vous?" I asked.
"Everything has happened chez moi. But nothing has happened more than once. Therefore this won't happen here. It will be at the next place they go to, or the next. Besides, here there is no young American pour la partie—none except you, monsieur. You are susceptible, but you are too reasonable."
"It's lucky for you I am reasonable," I answered. "It's thanks to that fact that you escape a scolding!"
