"I say steady, Mrs. Gainsborough," Lily murmured, with a frown. "Some of these people in the carriage may speak English." "Speak English?" Mrs. Gainsborough repeated. "You don't mean to tell me they'd go on jabbering to one another in French if they could speak English! What an idea!" A young man who had got into the compartment at Chantilly had been casting glances of admiration at Lily ever since, and it was on account of him that she had warned Mrs. Gainsborough. He was a slim, dark young man dressed by an English tailor, very diffident for a Frenchman, but when Sylvia began to speculate upon the choice of a hotel he could no longer keep silence and asked in English if he could be of any help. When Sylvia replied to him in French, he was much surprised: _"Mais vous êtes française!"_ _"Je suis du pays de la lune,"_ Sylvia said. "Now don't encourage the young fellow to gabble in French," Mrs. Gainsborough protested. "It gives me the pins and needles to hear you. You ought to encourage people to speak English, if they want to, I'm sure." The young Frenchman smiled at this and offered his card to Sylvia, whom he evidently accepted as the head of the party. She read, "Hector Ozanne," and smiled for the heroic first name; somehow he did not look like Hector and because he was so modest she presented him to Lily to make him happy. "I am enchanted to meet a type of English beauty," he said. "You must forgive my sincerity, which arises only from admiration. Madame," he went on, turning to Mrs. Gainsborough, "I am honored to meet you." Mrs. Gainsborough, who was not quite sure how to deal with such politeness, became flustered and dropped her bag. Ozanne and she both plunged for it simultaneously and bumped their heads; upon this painful salute a general friendliness was established. "I am a bachelor," said Ozanne. "I have nothing to occupy myself, and if I might be permitted to assist you in a research for an apartment I shall be very elated." Sylvia decided in favor of rooms on the _rive gauche_. She felt it was a conventional taste, but held to her opinion against Ozanne's objections. "But I have an apartment in the Rue Montpensier, with a view of the Palais Royal. I do not live there now myself. I beseech you to make me the pleasure to occupy it. It is so very good, the view of the garden. And if you like an ancient house, it is very ancient. Do you concur?" "And where will you go?" Sylvia asked. "I live always in my club. For me it would be a big advantage, I assure you." "We should have to pay rent," said Sylvia, quickly. "The rent will be one thousand a year." "God have mercy upon us!" Mrs. Gainsborough gasped. "A thousand a year? Why, the man must think that we're the royal family broken out from Windsor Castle on the randan." "Shut up, you silly old thing," said Sylvia. "He's asking nothing at all. Francs, not pounds. _Vous êtes trop gentil pour nous, Monsieur."_ _"Alors, c'est entendu?"_ _"Mais oui."_