They had dined sumptuously. The equivocal position in which they appeared, far from detracting from the deference of the hotel people, served but to increase their homage. Experience had shown that such persons as they were supposed to be spent most and paid best, and so they were served on the most splendid plate; waiters in full dress attended them; even to the bouquet of hothouse flowers left on “Mademoiselle's” napkin, all were little evidences of that consideration of which Annesley Beecher well knew the meaning. “Will you please to enlighten my ignorance on one point, Mr. Beecher?” said she, as they sat over their coffee. “Is it customary in this rigid England, of which you have told me so many things, for a young unmarried lady to travel alone with a gentleman who is not even a relative?” “When her father so orders it, I don't see that there can be much wrong in it,” said he, with some hesitation. “That is not exactly an answer to my question; although I may gather from it that the proceeding is, at least, unusual.” “I won't say it's quite customary,” said Beecher; “but taking into account that I am a very old and intimate friend of your father's--” “There must, then, have been some very pressing emergency to make papa adopt such a course,” interrupted she. “Why so?” asked he. “Is the arrangement so very distasteful to you?” “Perhaps not; perhaps I like it very well. Perhaps I find you very agreeable, very amusing, very--What shall I say?” “Respectful.” “If you like that epithet, I have no objection to put it in your character. Yet still do I come back to the thought that papa could scarcely have struck out this plan without some grave necessity. Now, I should like much to know what that is, or was.” Beecher made no sign of reply, and she quickly asked, “Do you know his reasons?” “Yes,” said he, gravely; “but I prefer that you should not question me about them.” “I can't help that, Mr. Beecher,” said she, in that half-careless tone she sometimes used. “Just listen to me for one moment,” said she, earnestly, and fixing her eyes fully on him,--“just hear me attentively. From what I have gathered from your account of England and its habits, I am certainly now doing that which, to say the least, is most unusual and unwarrantable. Now, either there is a reason so grave for this that it makes a choice of evils imperative,--and, therefore, I ought to have my choice,--or there is another even worse interpretation--at least, a more painful one--to come.” “Which is?” cried he. “That I am not of that station to which such propriety attaches of necessity.” She uttered these words with a cold sternness and determination that actually made Beecher tremble. “It was Davis's daughter spoke there,” thought he. “They are the words of one who declares that, no matter what be the odds against her, she is ready to meet the whole world in arms. What a girl it is!” muttered he, with a sense of mingled fear and admiration.