"You don't see me some day a great statesman?" said Nick. "My dear fellow, it's exactly what I've a terror of." "Mercy! don't you admire them?" Biddy cried. "It's a trade like another and a method of making one's way which society certainly condones. But when one can be something better--!" "Why what in the world is better?" Biddy asked. The young man gasped and Nick, replying for him, said: "Gabriel Nash is better! You must come and lunch with us. I must keep you--I must!" he added. "We shall save him yet," Mr. Nash kept on easily to Biddy while they went and the girl wondered still more what her mother would make of him. III After her companions left her Lady Agnes rested for five minutes in silence with her elder daughter, at the end of which time she observed: "I suppose one must have food at any rate," and, getting up, quitted the place where they had been sitting. "And where are we to go? I hate eating out of doors," she went on. "Dear me, when one comes to Paris--!" Grace returned in a tone apparently implying that in so rash an adventure one must be prepared for compromises and concessions. The two ladies wandered to where they saw a large sign of "Buffet" suspended in the air, entering a precinct reserved for little white-clothed tables, straw-covered chairs and long-aproned waiters. One of these functionaries approached them with eagerness and with a _"Mesdames sont seules?"_ receiving in return from her ladyship the slightly snappish announcement _"Non; nous sommes beaucoup!"_ He introduced them to a table larger than most of the others, and under his protection they took their places at it and began rather languidly and vaguely to consider the question of the repast. The waiter had placed a _carte_ in Lady Agnes's hands and she studied it, through her eye-glass, with a failure of interest, while he enumerated with professional fluency the resources of the establishment and Grace watched the people at the other tables. She was hungry and had already broken a morsel from a long glazed roll. "Not cold beef and pickles, you know," she observed to her mother. Lady Agnes gave no heed to this profane remark, but dropped her eye-glass and laid down the greasy document. "What does it signify? I daresay it's all nasty," Grace continued; and she added inconsequently: "If Peter comes he's sure to be particular." "Let him first be particular to come!" her ladyship exclaimed, turning a cold eye upon the waiter. _"Poulet chasseur, filets mignons sauce bearnaise,"_ the man suggested.