sadly éprouvée? Why should a daughter of mine like that dreadful girl?"
"Does she like her?"
"Pray, do you mean," asked my companion, softly, "that Aurora is a hypocrite?"
I hesitated a moment. "A little, since you ask me. I think you have forced her to be."
Mrs. Church answered this possibly presumptuous charge with a tranquil, candid exultation. "I never force my daughter!"
"She is nevertheless in a false position," I rejoined. "She hungers and thirsts to go back to her own country; she wants to 'come' out in New York, which is certainly, socially speaking, the El Dorado of young ladies. She likes any one, for the moment, who will talk to her of that, and serve as a connecting-link with her native shores. Miss Ruck performs this agreeable office."
"Your idea is, then, that if she were to go with Miss Ruck to America she would drop her afterwards."
I complimented Mrs. Church upon her logical mind, but I repudiated this cynical supposition. "I can't imagine her—when it should come to the
