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 is terrible to see; yet it becomes you. It gives you a provocative, a boyish aspect. And the beautiful bare arms;—and the breast so white under the sunburned throat. Your eyes are blue, are they not?—Though now, in this light, they seem so dark.'

'Bluish grey. Quite ordinary eyes'—laughed Jill, a little embarrassed by this inventory. 'I see the harp is ready. When does the concert begin?'

'Oh, the concert does not begin until we ask for it.—Not until we have talked; and had our coffee.—Marthe prepares the coffee now.'

'Did she tell you that we met, at last, yesterday?' asked Jill, seeing that the old lady's joyous mood to-night included her protégée. 'I was so glad. I liked her so much.'

'Yes. She told me. She told me that you had been charming to her; and to her cat. You must not turn my poor Marthe's head, chère amie. A humble little teacher of music; a simple little bourgeoise. It would not be kind to give her hopes you could not fulfill.'

'But it's she who's turned my head!' cried Jill, and she forgot discretion. 'I don't think she's a bit humble. I think she's wonderful. She's the most wonderful person I've ever met.'

At this large statement, Madame de Lamouderie sat for a moment silent. 'Wonderful?' she then repeated in a small, low voice.

'Yes.' Jill was now resolved to rub it in. 'Wonderful and beautiful. Dick thinks so too, don't you, Dick?