It was something like this that Kendall had feared from a meeting between Andree and Maude, that some subject such as this would spring up, that he would be subjected to embarrassment and discomfort. He was embarrassed now because he fancied Maude would be embarrassed and because he feared Andree, in her child-like frankness, might say something which would shock Maude’s American prudery. He did not make use of the word _prudery_, but the state of mind for which it stood was in his thoughts. He flushed and was about to attempt some stammered diversion, but Maude answered, perfectly calm and without hesitation. “Captain Ware asked me if I would ever marry a man who had had an affair with another girl.” “Ah....” said Andree. Then: “And why not, mademoiselle? What has that to do weeth the marriage? It was a silly question, was it not?” Ken regarded her anxiously, but she gave no sign that she had attached any significance to his question other than a faint note in the long-drawn “Ah....” with which she had heard it stated. “Yes, it was a ver’ silly question,” Andree repeated, “for if it ees not then there shall nevair be any marriages at all.” “I don’t know....” said Maude. “Perhaps it ees bicause mademoiselle ees ver’ yo’ng and does not know the worl’,” said Andree, with an air of age and wisdom. “No. It is something in myself. I resent the idea.” “Then there is but one hope for mademoiselle.... She mus’ marry the monk.” “Now, listen here,” said Ken, bruskly. “This—this—Oh, darn it all, let’s talk about something else.” Andree laughed gaily and pointed a finger of ridicule at him. “Oh, see! We have frighten’ him.... He is ver’ droll. Sometime’ he is same theeng as yo’ng girl jus’ from the convent.... But he is ver’ good, mademoiselle,” she said, suddenly and seriously. “He is mos’ good and gentle and kind, and I love him ver’ much.” Maude touched Andree’s hand, and her eyes were not guiltless of moisture. “I am sure you do, dear,” she said, “and he must love you very dearly, too.” Ken felt that the situation demanded something of him; that if he did not prove himself adequate to the demand he would sink in his own estimation and take a lower place in the regard of both the girls. It was awkward. No situation could be more awkward, but a thing was required of him if he desired to be true to himself and worthy of the love that Andree had given him. “By God! I do!” he said, desperately, and had his reward in the depths of the smile which came into Andree’s eyes.... There threatened to come an uncomfortable pause, but Andree averted it. “Monsieur Ken and I go soon for the _déjeuner_. Mademoiselle, of course, comes also.” “I wish I might,” said Maude, her voice a trifle dulled and her eyes not altogether happy. “But I promised to help out in the club on the Avenue Montaigne.... And I must be going.” She looked at her wrist watch. “Indeed I must. I can cross the street now.... Good-by, Captain Ware. Good-by, mademoiselle.”