Page:A M Williamson - The Motor Maid.djvu/134

118 "No-o. So far as you 've told me."

"What, don't you believe I 've told you the truth?" I flashed out.

"Of course. But do women ever tell the whole truth to men—even to their brothers? What about that kind friend of yours in England?"

"What kind friend?" I asked, confused for an instant. Then I remembered, and—almost—chuckled. The conversation I had had with him came back to me, and I recalled a queer look on his face which had puzzled me till I forgot it. Now I was on the point of blurting out: "Oh, the kind friend is a Miss Paget, who said she'd like to help me if I needed help," when a spirit of mischief seized me. I determined to keep up the little mystery I'd inadvertently made. "I know," I said gravely. "Quite a different kind of friend."

"Some one you like better than Monsieur Charretier?"

"Much better."

"Rich, too?"

"Very rich, I believe, and of a noble family."

"Indeed! No doubt, then, you are wise, even from a worldly point of view, in refusing the man your people want you to marry, and taking—such extreme measures not to let yourself be over persuaded," said Mr. Dane, stiffly, in a changed tone, not at all friendly or nice, as before. "I meant to advise you not to go on to England with Lady Turnour, as the whole situation is so unsuitable; but now, of course, I shall say no more."

"It was about something else I wanted advice," I reminded him. "But I suppose I must have bored you. You suddenly seem so cross."