ndeed would, be drastically
interfered with by Miss Van Tuyn's marriage. It was very careless of
him. He was inclined to blame himself almost severely.

"My dear Miss Cronin," he hastily exclaimed. "If you were ever to think
of changing your--your"--he could not find the word; "condition" would
not do; "state of life" suggested the Catechism; "profession" was
preposterous, besides, he did not mean that--"your sofa"--he had got
it--"your sofa in the Avenue Henri Martin for a sofa somewhere else, I
know of at least a dozen charming houses in Paris which would gladly, I
might say thankfully, open their doors to receive you."

This was really a lie. At the moment Braybrooke did not know of one.
But he hastily made up his mind to be "responsible" for Fanny Cronin if
anything should occur through his amiable machinations.

"Thank you, Mr. Braybrooke. You are kindness itself. So, then, Beryl
_is_ going to marry! And she never hinted it to me, although we talked
over marriage only yesterday, when I gave her Bourget's views on it as
expressed in his '_Physiologie de l'amour moderne_.' She never said one
word. She never--"

But at this point Braybrooke felt that an interruption, however rude,
was obligatory.

"I have no reason whatever to suppose that Miss Van Tuyn is thinking of
marriage at this moment," he said, in an almost shrill voice.

"But surely you would not frighten me without a reason," said Fanny
Cronin with mild severity, sitting back again in her chair.

"Frighten you, dear Miss Cronin! I would not do that for the world. What
have I said to frighten you?"

"You talked of my changing my sofa for a sofa somewhere else! If Beryl
is not going to marry why should I think of changing?"

"But nothing lasts for ever. The whole world is in a state of flux."

"Really, Mr. Braybrooke! I am quite sure _I_ am not in a state of flux!"
said Miss Cronin with unusual dignity. "We American women, you must
understand, have our principles and know how to preserve them."

"On my honour, I only meant that life inevitably brings with it changes.
I am sure you will bear me out in that."

"I don't know about bearing you out," said Miss Cronin, looking rather
helplessly at Francis Braybrooke's fairly tall and well-nourished
figure. "But why should Beryl want to change? She is very happy as she
is."

"I know--I know. But surely such a lovely girl is certain to marry some
day. And can we wish it otherwise? Some day a man will co