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 him at the table. "Well, what was the matter?" she asked.

"When, Miss Ambler?"

"When I did what you'd told me I ought to do."

"My dear young lady!" he objected. "I have too many culpabilities of my own; I don't tell people what they ought to do."

"You told me," she said sharply. "Certainly you did. And I do wish you wouldn't call me a 'dear young lady,' Mr. Orbison. You're not my uncle; you're not old enough."

"I'm afraid I am," he said, smiling. "At least I'm afraid I feel so."

"No, you don't," she returned quickly. "You haven't been watching me like an uncle—not a bit—and I haven't been like a niece being watched!"

"I beg your pardon," he said with some awkwardness, and returned to her opening question. "What was the matter when?"

"I think you're evading. You know perfectly you did tell me what you thought I ought to do—what you and Mr. Rennie and Arturo Liana's mother thought I ought to do. You told me this morning and infuriated me. You said that if I had any decency I'd be nice to Arturo and drop the baron and Giuseppe."