his country is young. Is not the youth of all these things
still your own?"

She made no answer, but sat musing, drumming lightly on the chair arm.
I was reaching for her cloak. Then at once I caught a glimpse of her
stockinged foot, the toe of which slightly protruded from beneath her
ball gown. She saw the glance and laughed.

"Poor feet," she said. "Ah, _mes pauvres pieds la_! You would like to
see them bruised by the hard going in some heathen country? See you have
no carriage, and mine is gone. I have not even a pair of shoes. Go look
under the bed beyond."

I obeyed her gladly enough. Under the fringe of the satin counterpane I
found a box of boots, slippers, all manner of footwear, daintily and
neatly arranged. Taking out a pair to my fancy, I carried them out and
knelt before her.

"Then, Madam," said I, "since you insist on this, I shall choose.
America is not Europe. Our feet here have rougher going and must be shod
for it. Allow me!"

Without the least hesitation in the world, or the least immodesty, she
half protruded the foot which still retained its slipper. As I removed
this latter, through some gay impulse, whose nature I did not pause to
analyze, I half mechanically thrust it into the side pocket of my coat.

"This shall be security," said I, "that what you speak with my master
shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

There was a curious deeper red in her cheek. I saw her bosom beat the
faster rhythm.

"Quite agreed!" she answered. But she motioned me away, taking the stout
boot in her own hand and turning aside as she fastened it. She looked
over her shoulder at me now and again while thus engaged.

"Tell me," she said gently, "what security do _I_ have? You come, by my
invitation, it is true, but none the less an intrusion, into my
apartments. You demand of me something which no man has a right to
demand. Because I am disposed to be gracious, and because I am much
disposed to be _ennuye_, and because Mr. Pakenham is fat, I am willing
to take into consideration what you ask. I have never seen a thin
gentleman in a woolen nightcap, and I am curious. But no gentleman plays
games with ladies in which the dice are loaded for himself. Come, what
security shall _I_ have?"

I did not pretend to understand her. Perhaps, after all, we all had been
misinformed regarding her? I could not tell. But her spirit of
_camaraderie_, her good fellowship, her courage, quite aside from