Arrived in Paris she remembered that she had not the money for a fiacre. “How old are you?\" He looked at her engagingly. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. “Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. ” “Ye—e—es. ‘Gerald, this is a nun’s habit. . Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. ” She spoke with a certain asperity. She had, poor inexperienced fool, given herself away.
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