Mr. Probert lowered his book accommodatingly and rested his eyes on the fire. “You won’t be content till we’re enthusiastic. She seems an amiable girl certainly, and in that you’re fortunate.” “I don’t think you can tell me what would be better--what you’d have preferred,” the young man said. “What I should have preferred? In the first place you must remember that I wasn’t madly impatient to see you married.” “I can imagine that, and yet I can’t imagine that as things have turned out you shouldn’t be struck with my felicity. To get something so charming and to get it of our own species!” Gaston explained. “Of our own species? Tudieu!” said his father, looking up. “Surely it’s infinitely fresher and more amusing for me to marry an American. There’s a sad want of freshness--there’s even a provinciality--in the way we’ve Gallicised.” “Against Americans I’ve nothing to say; some of them are the best thing the world contains. That’s precisely why one can choose. They’re far from doing all like that.” “Like what, dear father?” “Comme ces gens-la. You know that if they were French, being otherwise what they are, one wouldn’t look at them.” “Indeed one would; they would be such rare curiosities.” “Well, perhaps they’ll do for queer fish,” said Mr. Probert with a little conclusive sigh. “Yes, let them pass at that. They’ll surprise you.” “Not too much, I hope!” cried the old man, opening his volume again. The complexity of things among the Proberts, it needn’t nevertheless startle us to learn, was such as to make it impossible for Gaston to proceed to the celebration of his nuptial, with all the needful circumstances of material preparation and social support, before some three months should have expired. He chafed however but moderately under this condition, for he remembered it would give Francie time to endear herself to his whole circle. It would also have advantages for the Dossons; it would enable them to establish by simple but effective arts some modus vivendi with that rigid body. It would in short help every one to get used to everything. Mr. Dosson’s designs and Delia’s took no articulate form; what was mainly clear to Gaston was that his future wife’s relatives had as yet no sense of disconnexion. He knew that Mr. Dosson would do whatever Delia liked and that Delia would like to “start” her sister--this whether or no she expected to be present at the rest of the race. Mr. Probert notified Mr. Dosson of what he proposed to “do” for his son, and Mr. Dosson appeared more quietly amused than anything else at the news. He announced in return no intentions in regard to Francie, and his strange silence was the cause of another convocation of the house of Probert. Here Mme. de Brecourt’s bold front won another victory; she maintained, as she let her brother know, that it was too late for any policy but a policy of confidence. “Lord help us, is that what they call confidence?” the young man gasped, guessing