stairs of the Rue Delambre, were lighted), Audrey saw seven automobiles in
the street, she veered again towards the possibility that the Foas might
after all be influential. Musa and Mr. Gilman, the yachtsman, had left with
the women. Audrey told Miss Ingate to drive Musa home. She said not a word
to him about her departure the next afternoon, and he made no reference to
it. As the most imposing automobile moved splendidly away, Mr. Gilman held
open the door of Madame Piriac's vehicle.

Mr. Gilman sat down opposite to the women. In the enclosed space the rumour
of his heavy breathing was noticeable. Madame Piriac began to speak in
English--her own English--with a unique accent that Audrey at once loved.

"You commence soon the yachting, my oncle?" said she, and turning to
Audrey: "Mistair Gilman is no oncle to me. But he is a great friend of my
husband. I call always him oncle. Do not I, oncle? Mistair Gilman lives
only for the yachting. Every year in May we lose him, till September."

"Really!" said Audrey.

Her heart was apprehensively beating. She even suspected for an instant
that both of them knew who she was, and that Mr. Gilman, before she had
addressed him in the drawing-room, had already related to Madame Piriac the
episode of Mozewater. Then she said to herself that the idea was absurd;
and lastly, repeating within her breast that she didn't care, she became
desperately bold.

"I should love to buy a yacht," she said, after a pause. "We used to live
far inland and I know nothing of the sea; in fact I scarcely saw it till I
crossed the Channel, but I have always dreamed about it."

"You must come and have a look at my new yacht, Mrs. Moncreiff," said Mr.
Gilman in his solemn, thick voice. "I always say that no yacht is herself
without ladies on board, a yacht being feminine, you see." He gave a little
laugh.

"Ah! My oncle!" Madame Piriac broke in. "I see in that no reason. If a
yacht was masculine then I could see the reason in it."

"Perhaps not one of my happiest efforts," said Mr. Gilman with
resignation. "I am a dull man."

"No, no!" Madame Piriac protested. "You are a dear. But why have you said
nothing to-night at the Foas in the great discussion about feminism? Not
one word have you said!"

"I really don't understand it," said Mr. Gilman. "Either everybody is mad,
or I am mad. I dare say I am mad."

"Well," said Madame Piriac. "I said not much myself, but I enjoyed it. It
was better than t