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 "How could he tell you!" Ogle exclaimed indignantly. "Presumably with his voice."

"He couldn't," she cried, "because he didn't know himself!"

"Do you mean to tell me he didn't know where he was going?"

"Not the least in the world!"

"You expect me to believe it?"

"He didn't," she insisted, still almost overcome by her pleasure in Tinker's unspotted ignorance. "He only knew he'd never heard the names of the places and couldn't pronounce them if he had. His wife had been to Cayzac, and Cayzac had given her a courier who would take them to see what Mr. Tinker calls 'the sights'; but what these sights were, or where, he had no more idea than a stone! So how could he tell me what he didn't know himself? You Americans are the most wonderful people!"

Ogle believed her. "Tinker wouldn't know!" he thought. But her added exclamation nettled him.

"I wish you wouldn't so often call me 'you Americans, he said. "There are about one hundred and twenty millions of us, I believe; and really we aren't all exactly alike. I don't think of you and the valet