open landau--her companion said “And now where shall we go?” He spoke as if on their way from the hotel he hadn’t touched upon the pleasant vision of a little turn in the Bois. He had insisted then that the day was made on purpose, the air full of spring. At present he seemed to wish to give himself the pleasure of making his companion choose that particular alternative. But she only answered rather impatiently: “Wherever you like, wherever you like!” And she sat there swaying her parasol, looking about her, giving no order. “Au Bois,” said George Flack to the coachman, leaning back on the soft cushions. For a few moments after the carriage had taken its easy elastic start they were silent; but he soon began again. “Was that lady one of your new relatives?” “Do you mean one of Mr. Probert’s old ones? She’s his sister.” “Is there any particular reason in that why she shouldn’t say good-morning to me?” “She didn’t want you to remain with me. She doesn’t like you to go round with me. She wanted to carry me off.” “What has she got against me?” Mr. Flack asked with a kind of portentous calm. Francie seemed to consider a little. “Oh it’s these funny French ideas.” “Funny? Some of them are very base,” said George Flack. His companion made no answer; she only turned her eyes to right and left, admiring the splendid day and shining city. The great architectural vista was fair: the tall houses, with their polished shop-fronts, their balconies, their signs with accented letters, seemed to make a glitter of gilt and crystal as they rose in the sunny air. The colour of everything was cool and pretty and the sound of everything gay; the sense of a costly spectacle was everywhere. “Well, I like Paris anyway!” Francie exhaled at last with her little harmonising flatness. “It’s lucky for you, since you’ve got to live here.” “I haven’t got to; there’s no obligation. We haven’t settled anything about that.” “Hasn’t that lady settled it for you?” “Yes, very likely she has,” said Francie placidly enough. “I don’t like her so well as the others.” “You like the others very much?” “Of course I do. So would you if they had made so much of you.” “That one at the studio didn’t make much of me, certainly,” Mr. Flack declared. “Yes, she’s the most haughty,” Francie allowed. “Well, what is it all about?” her friend demanded. “Who are they anyway?” “Oh it would take me three hours to tell you,” the girl cheerfully sighed. “They go back a thousand years.” “Well, we’ve GOT a thousand years--I mean three hours.” And George Flack settled himself more on his cushions and inhaled the pleasant air. “I AM getting something out of this drive, Miss Francie,” he went on. “It’s many a day since I’ve been to the old Bois. I don’t fool round much in woods.”