“That’s all we could hope for, Mrs. Carter. I can put your name on the program, then--and the song?” Fanchon nodded, an elfish look in her eyes now. “_Oui, par example_--I can sing anything?” she asked. “Oh, sing something nice--it’s for the church, Fanchon!” said William hastily. “She means something nice,” said Virginia. “Of course--anything you’ll give us,” she added, sweetly, drawing away a little. Evidently she did not quite mean to go back to the house with them. William saw it--and flushed again. “You two were coming to call, weren’t you?” he asked bluntly. Virginia glanced at her grandfather, and the colonel shook his head. “Some other day. It’s”--he looked at his watch--“it’s near dinner-time now, Jinny.” She assented, and they drew away graciously. In spite of that first happy moment when the impression seemed so good, there was something wrong. William felt it. He glanced nervously at his wife, but she was smiling. He had never seen her look more lovely or less dangerous. He drew a long breath of relief and urged the Denbighs to come soon. “Some evening,” he suggested. “Father will be delighted to see you, colonel, and Fanchon will sing for you both.” “Then we’ll surely come soon,” said Virginia. They managed to get away, and William had an uneasy feeling as he saw them retreating toward their home. He was positive that they had been coming to call. It all embarrassed him. It had been an ordeal, and he had felt it keenly. He had always held a good opinion of himself. The successful eldest son of the family, he had had the éclat of his success at home; but to-day, face to face with Virginia, he had felt--he grew hot all over at the thought of how he had felt. His wife’s voice startled him. “Are you going back to the house?” she asked in an odd tone. He started, looking at her reluctantly. “Why, yes, I was. Shall we walk a little way, instead?” She shrugged, turning without a word and going back with him. At another time he would have thought that there was something strange about her, but to-day he did not notice. They walked quite a distance without speaking. The silence was growing apparent when Fanchon broke it. “So that’s the girl who’s in love with you!” she said abruptly. William reddened. “Don’t say that!” he exclaimed hastily. “I never said that!” She laughed, and he grew angry. “Listen, Fanchon, I’ve got something to say to you!” She gave him a sidelong look. “_Dis donc_,” she said. “I wish you wouldn’t smoke on the street. American girls never do it.” “Street?” Fanchon looked about her vacantly. “_Ciel_, do you call this a street?” “Yes, I do. It’s a street in my home town,” replied William doggedly. “I’m sorry you don’t like it. We’ve got to live here, you know.” “Here?” She looked at him now, her lip trembling. “_Toujours?_” Suddenly she began to laugh, softly at first, and then wildly, hysterically, dashing tears from her eyes. William, nonplused, simply stared. He no longer understood her.