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evening Elizabeth stayed a short time in the salon after dinner. With the closing of the door behind her, when she sought her own room, she left her character to be fought over, much as a bone is disputed by hungry dogs. The young student had slipped away. Alaric Baring took up the Moniteur du Soir and read, or affected to read, in the fading light at the window. His sister was knitting; but she joined in the general tournament of talk, without relaxing for an instant the clocklike movement of her fingers.

Morin (as soon as the door is shut, rubbing his hands). "She is less sauvage to-night. We shall tame her in time!"

''Mdme. Martineau''. "She is English. You must make allowances."

Miss Baring. "And she is very young. She has a striking face. Don't you think so, Monsieur Genron?"

Genron (laughing sarcastically). "Striking, mademoiselle? She looks as if she would not be content to strike—as if she would run you through the body!"

''Mdme. de Belcour.'' " C'est qu'elle pose en Jeanne d'Arc."

Doucet (twirling his moustache). "When she has known