"I think we will go to Paris first." Then Eleanor went into a graphic description of the glories and pleasures of Paris, as she had experienced them during her first bridal tour. "It is the most fascinating city in the world, Alice." "I dare say, but it is a ridiculous shame having it in such an out-of-the-way place. What is the use of having a Paris, when one has to sail three thousand miles to get at it? Eleanor, I feel that I shall have to go." "So you shall, dear; I won't go without you." "Oh, no, darling; not with Mr. Smith: I really could not. I shall have to try and manage matters with Mr. Carrol. We shall quarrel all the way across, of course, but then--" "Why don't you adopt his opinions, Alice?" "I intend to--for a little while; but it is impossible to go on with the same set of opinions forever. Just think how dull conversation would become!" "Well, dear, you may go to sleep now, for mind, I shall want you down to breakfast before eleven. I have given 'Somebody' permission to call at five o'clock to-morrow--or rather to-day--and we shall have a _tete-à-tete_ tea." Alice determined that it should be strictly _tete-à-tete._ She went to spend the afternoon with Carrol's sisters, and stayed until she thought the lovers had had ample time to make their vows and arrange their wedding. There was a little pout on her lips as she left Carrol outside the door, and slowly bent her steps to Eleanor's private parlor. She was trying to make up her mind to be civil to her cousin's new husband-elect, and the temptation to be anything else was very strong. "I shall be dreadfully in the way--_his way_, I mean--and he will want to send me out of the room, and I shall not go--no, not if I fall asleep on a chair looking at him." With this decision, the most amiable she could reach, Alice entered the parlor. Eleanor was alone, and there was a pale, angry look on her face Alice could not understand. "Shut the door, dear." "Alone?" "I have been so all evening." "Have you quarreled with Mr. Smith?" "Mr. Smith did not call." "Not come!" "Nor yet sent any apology." The two women sat looking into each other's faces a few moments, both white and silent. "What will you do, Eleanor?" "Nothing." "But he may be sick, or he may not have got your letter. Such queer mistakes do happen." "Parker took it to his hotel; the clerk said he was still in his room; it was sent to him in Parker's sight and hearing. There is not any doubt but that he received it." "Well, suppose he did not. Still, if he really cares for you, he is hardly likely to take your supposed silence for an absolute refusal. I have said 'No' to Carrol a dozen times, and he won't stay 'noed.' Mr. Smith will be sure to ask for a personal interview."