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 came near us, and timidly tried to take her in his arms. To my surprise she went to him like a lamb, kissing him and crying, and I slipped out of the room, once more convinced that men were mere babes in the hands of designing women.

That night I waited in vain for her to come and tell me where she had been, and while waiting I fell asleep. After breakfast the next morning she came to my room, beaming, and looking prettier than ever.

"Siege is raised," she cried, sitting down cross-legged on the rug. "Blossom of the almond-tree, we can go for a picnic to any cemetery we like, and I am to have a pair of horses all my own, and the loveliest low victoria that France can manufacture." She put her finger-tips together, and looked up at me enjoying the effect of her words, and continued: "I am also going to have a bigger allowance, and when I have a little girl, I may give her a French name. In exchange, I shall not throw kissed roses to anyone, and I am not going to fib for a long, long time."

She swayed forward till her forehead touched the floor, and giggled so delightedly that I had to join her.

"The poor dear!" she went on, after her laughter had subsided. "If I told him the truth for a week, he would cease to find me interesting. I should be a tame creature—not the woman he is in love with. Oh, dear! all men are alike."