asked me:

"Is it like that all day long? Oh, please to let me live there!"

A nice English girl of eighteen would not flaunt unconcerned about my
drawing-room in a shameless dressing-gown, and crinkle up her toes in
front of me; still less would she tell me outrageous stories; but she
will wear low-necked dresses and gaze at ladies in tights without the
ghost of an immodest thought. I was right when I told Carlotta England
was Alexandretta upside-down. What is immoral here is moral there, and
vice-versa. There is no such thing as absolute morality. I am very glad
this has happened. It shows me that Carlotta is not devoid of the better
kind of feminine instincts.

CHAPTER VIII

July 4th.

Judith has come back. I have seen her and I have explained Carlotta.

All day long I felt like a respectable person about to be brought before
a magistrate for being drunk and disorderly. Now I have the uneasy
satisfaction of having been let off with a caution. I am innocent, but I
mustn't do it again.

As soon as I entered the room Judith embraced me, and said a number of
foolish things. I responded to the best of my ability. It is not usual
for our quiet lake of affection to be visited by such tornadoes.

"Oh, I am glad, I am glad to be back with you again. I have longed for
you. I couldn't write it. I did not know I could long for any one so
much."

"I have missed you immensely, my dear Judith," said I.

She looked at me queerly for a moment; then with a radiant smile:

"I love you for not going into transports like a Frenchman. Oh, I
am tired of Frenchmen. You are my good English Marcus, and worth all
masculine Paris put together."

"I thank you, my dear, for the compliment," said I, "but surely you must
exaggerate."

"To me you are worth the masculine universe," said Judith, and she
seated me by her side on the sofa, held my hands, and said more foolish
things.

When the tempest had abated, I laughed.

"It is you that have acquired the art of transports in Paris," said I.

"Perhaps I have. Shall I teach you?"

"You will have to learn moderation, my dear Judith," I remarked. "You
have been living too rapidly of late and are looking tired."

"It is only the journey," she replied.

I am sure it is the unaccustomed dissipation. Judith is not a strong
woman, and late hours and eternal gadding about do not suit her
constitution. She has lost weight and there are faint circles under
her eyes. There are