“The fact,” she said, “that she seriously thinks that perhaps beauty may be an advantage to a young person who applies for work in the office of a man of business because it may seem bright and cheerful to him when he is tired and out of spirits—that gives one furiously to think. Yes, to me she said it, milord—with the eyes of a little dove brooding over her young. I could see her—lifting them like an angel to some elderly _vaurien_, who would merely think her a born _cocotte_.” Here Coombe’s rigid face showed thought indeed. “Good God!” he muttered, quite to himself, “Good God!” in a low, breathless voice. Villain or saint, he knew not one world but many. “We must take care of her,” he said next. “She is not an insubordinate child. She will do nothing yet?” “I have told her she is not yet ready,” Mademoiselle Vallé answered. “I have also promised to tell her when she is—And to help her.” “God help her if we do not!” he said. “She is, on the whole, as ignorant as a little sheep—and butchers are on the lookout for such as she is. They suit them even better than the little things whose tendencies are perverse from birth. An old man with an evil character may be able to watch over her from a distance.” Mademoiselle regarded him with grave eyes, which took in his tall, thin erectness of figure, his bearing, the perfection of his attire with its unfailing freshness, which was not newness. “Do you call yourself an old man, milord?” she asked. “I am not decrepit—years need not bring that,” was his answer. “But I believe I became an old man before I was thirty. I have grown no older—in that which is really age—since then.” In the moment’s silence which followed, his glance met Mademoiselle Vallé’s and fixed itself. “I am not old enough—or young enough—to be enamoured of Mrs. Gareth-Lawless’ little daughter,” he said. “_You_ need not be told that. But you have heard that there are those who amuse themselves by choosing to believe that I am.” “A few light and not too clean-minded fools,” she admitted without flinching. “No man can do worse for himself than to explain and deny,” he responded with a smile at once hard and fine. “Let them continue to believe it.” CHAPTER XX