ore the pages out of his pocket-book, and called out to the cabman
the address of the Mitchells.

'Ah, chere madame, que je suis fatigue!' exclaimed La France, as he
threw himself back against the cushions.

His hair was long and smooth and fair, so fair that he had been spoken
of by jealous singers as a peroxide blond. His eyes were greenish, and
he had dark eyebrows and eyelashes. He was good-looking. His voice in
speaking was harsh, but his manner soft and insidious. His talents were
cosmopolitan; his tastes international; he had no duties, few pleasures
and that entire want of leisure known only to those who have
practically nothing whatever to do.

'Fatigued? That's what you always say,' said Lady Everard, laughing.

'But it is always true,' he said, with a strong French accent.

'You should take more exercise, Paul. Go out more in the air. You lead
too secluded a life.'

'What exercises? I practise my voice every day, twenty minutes.'

'Ah, but I didn't mean that. I mean in the open air--sport--that sort
of thing.'

'Ah, you wish I go horseback riding. Ver' nice, but not for me. I have
never did it. I cannot begun now, Lady Everard. I spoil all the
_veloute_ of my voice. Have you seen again that pretty little lady I
met here before? Delicious light brown hair, pretty blue eyes, a
wonderful blue, a blue that seem to say to everyone something
different.'

'What!' exclaimed Lady Everard. 'Are you referring to Mrs Ottley?' She
calmed down again. 'Oh yes, she's charming, awfully sweet--devoted to
her husband, you know--absolutely devoted to her husband; so rare and
delightful nowadays in London.'

'Oh yes, ver' nice. Me, I am devoted to 'er husband too. I go to see
him. He ask me.'

'What, without _me_?' exclaimed Lady Everard.

'I meet him the other night. He ask me to come round and sing him a
song. I cannot ask if I may bring Lady Everard in my pocket.'

'Really, Paul, I don't think that quite a nice joke to make, I must
say.' Then relenting she said: 'I know it's only your artistic fun.'

'So she ver' devoted to him? He have great confidence in her; he trust
her quite; he sure she never have any flirt?'

'He has every confidence; he's certain, absolutely certain!' exclaimed
Lady Everard.

'He wait till she come and tell him, I suppose. 'E is right.'

He continued in this strain for some time, constantly going back to his
admiration for Edith, and then began (with a good deal of bitterness)
on