Page:A M Williamson - The Motor Maid.djvu/26

12 which I was encouraging by not going back to bed.

"Does that mean that you 've lost them?"

"Yes," I said.

"And lately?"

"My father died when I was sixteen, my mother left me two years ago."

"You don't look more than nineteen now."

"I 'm nearly twenty-one."

"Well, I don't mean to catechize you, though one certainly must get friendly—or the other way—I suppose, penned up in a place like this all night. And you 've really been very kind to me. Although you 're a pretty girl, as you must know, I did n't think at first I was going to like you so much."

"And I did n't you," I retorted, laughing, because I really did begin to like the queer old lady now, and was glad I had n't dropped a pillow on her head.

"That's right. Be frank. I like frankness. Do you know, I believe you and I would get on very well together if our acquaintance was going to be continued? If Beau approves of a person, I let myself go."

"You use him as if he were a barometer."

"There you are again, with your funny ideas! I shall remember that one, and bring it out as if it were my own. I consider myself quite lucky to have got you for a travelling companion. It 's such a comfort to hear English again, and talk it, after having to converse by gesture—except with Beau. I hope you 're going on to Italy?"

"No. I 'm getting off at Cannes."

"I 'm sorry. But I suppose you 're glad?" "Not particularly," said I. nop