ourists.
Sir Samuel and I objected to this, and later it was settled for the
Turnours to do what her ladyship planned for you, without the company of
the tourists. Lady Turnour resents _lese-majeste_."

"It's a miracle she consented to leave the car," I said.

"She couldn't use it without a chauffeur, and naturally I refused to go
without knowing what had happened to you."

"You refused!" I stammered.

"Of course. That was where the row came in. We had a few words, and
eventually I was deputed to look you up."

"Deputed!" I echoed, desperately. "They never 'deputed' you to do it,
I'm sure."

"They jolly well couldn't help themselves. You can't make a man drive a
car if he won't. So they went off in the Germans' carriage, and the
Germans were enchanted."

"Oh!" I exclaimed, so miserable now that anger leaked out of my heart
like water through a sieve. "It's all my fault. Did they discharge you?"

"I didn't give them the chance. After a few little things her ladyship
said, I felt rather hot in the collar, and discharged myself. That is, I
gave them notice that I would go as soon as they could get another
chauffeur. It would have been bad form to leave them in the lurch,
without anyone, on tour."

The tears came to my eyes, and I was thinking so little about myself
that I let them roll down without bothering to wipe them away. "Do, do
forgive me," I implored. "But you never can, of course. All through my
foolishness you're out of an engagement. And you depended upon it, I
know, from what you said."

"There's nothing to forgive, my dear little sister," he said. "It's you
who must forgive me, if I've distressed you by telling the story in a
clumsy way. It wasn't your fault. I couldn't stand that bounderess's
cruel tongue, so I have myself to blame, if anyone. And it's sure to
turn out right in the end."

"You refused to drive their car because you would stay behind and find
me--"

"Any decent chap would do that--even a chauffeur." He spoke lightly to
comfort me. "Besides, I wanted to stop. You're the only sister I ever
had."

"You must hate me," I moaned.

"I don't. Please don't cry. I shall faint if you do."

I was obliged to laugh a little through my tears.

"Come," he said, gently. "Let me take you down. Just a word with the
guide about those gipsies, and--"

"Oh, leave the wretched gipsies alone!" I begged. "Who cares, now? If
you say anything, they may call us as witnesses at St. Remy or some town