.
She had long ago been carefully taught that the duty of a _dame de
compagnie_ consisted solely in being alive in a certain place--the place
selected for her by the person she was _dame de compagnie_ to. It was,
after all, an easy enough profession so long as a beneficent Providence
permitted your heart to beat and your lungs to function. The place
at present was Claridge's Hotel. She had nothing to do except to
lie comfortably in bed there. And this small feat, well within her
competence, she was now accomplishing with complete satisfaction to
herself. She took a happy sip of her camomile tea and added:

"But I know you always do that. You have such a wide choice and are so
clever in selection."

Miss Van Tuyn slightly frowned.

"There isn't such a wide choice in London as there is in Paris," she
said rather morosely.

"I dare say not. Paris is much smaller than London, but much cleverer,
I think. Where would you find an author like Bourget among the English?
Which of _them_ could have written '_Mensonges_'? Which of _them_
could--"

"I know, dear, I know! They haven't the bite. That is what you mean.
They have only the bark."

"Exactly! And when one sits down to a book--"

"Just so, dear. The dog that can only bark is a very dull dog. I saw a
wonderful dog the other day that looked as if it could bite."

"Indeed! In London?"

"Yes. But I'm sure it wasn't English."

"Was it a poodle?"

"No, quite the contrary."

Fanny Cronin looked rather vague. She was really trying to think what
dog was quite the contrary of a poodle, but, after the Channel, her mind
was unequal to the effort. So she took another sip of the camomile tea
and said:

"What colour was it?"

"It was all brown like a brown bronze. Well, good night, Fanny."

"Good night, dear. I really wish you would read '_Mensonges_' again when
I have finished with it. One cannot read over these masterpieces too
often."

"You shall lend it me."

She went out of the room, and Fanny Cronin settled comfortably down once
more to the competent exercise of her profession.

It was now nearly eight o'clock. Miss Van Tuyn went to her bedroom. She
had a maid with her, but she did not ring for the woman. Instead she
shut her door, and began to "do" things for herself. She began by taking
off her gown and putting on a loose wrapper. Then she sat down before
the dressing-table and changed the way in which her corn-coloured hair
was done, making it sit much c