“I have sometimes thought I was pretty, when I saw myself in the glass,” said Robin, with unexcited interest. “It seemed to me that I _looked_ pretty. But, at the same time, I couldn’t help knowing that everything is a matter of taste and that it might be because I was conceited.” “You are not conceited,” answered the Frenchwoman. “I don’t want to be,” said Robin. “I want to be—a serious person with—with a strong character.” Mademoiselle’s smile was touched with affectionate doubt. It had not occurred to her to view this lovely thing in the light of a “strong” character. Though, after all, what exactly was strength? She was a warm, intensely loving, love compelling, tender being. Having seen much of the world, and of humanity and inhumanity, Mademoiselle Vallé had had moments of being afraid for her—particularly when, by chance, she recalled the story Dowson had told her of the bits of crushed and broken leaves. “A serious person,” she said, “and strong?” “Because I must earn my own living,” said Robin. “I must be strong enough to take care of myself. I am going to be a governess—or something.” Here, it was revealed to Mademoiselle as in a flash, was the reason why she had applied herself with determination to her studies. This had been the object in view. For reasons of her own, she intended to earn her living. With touched interest, Mademoiselle Vallé waited, wondering if she would be frank about the reason. She merely said aloud: “A governess?” “Perhaps there may be something else I can do. I might be a secretary or something like that. Girls and women are beginning to do so many new things,” her charge explained herself. “I do not want to be—supported and given money. I mean I do not want—other people—to buy my clothes and food—and things. The newspapers are full of advertisements. I could teach children. I could translate business letters. Very soon I shall be old enough to begin. Girls in their teens do it.” She had laid some of her cards on the table, but not all, poor child. She was not going into the matter of her really impelling reasons. But Mademoiselle Vallé was not dull, and her affection added keenness to her mental observations. Also she had naturally heard the story of the Thorpe lawsuit from Dowson. Inevitably several points suggested themselves to her. “Mrs. Gareth-Lawless——” she began, reasonably. But Robin stopped her by turning her face full upon her once more, and this time her eyes were full of clear significance.