other remarks when he finds you've
gone, Dolly." And Malcourt, who was a mimic, shrugged and raised his
arms in Gallic appeal to the gods of wrath, until he mouthed his face
into a startling resemblance to that of the bereft nobleman.

Then he laughed a little--not very heartily; then, in a more familiar
role, he sat down opposite the girl and held up one finger of admonition
and consolation.

"The main thing, Dolly, was to get clear of him--and all that silly
business. Yes? No? Bon!... And now everything is cleared up between us,
and I've told you what I'd do--if you really wanted a chance. I believe
in chances for people."

The girl, who was young, buried her delicate face in the roses and
looked at him. The kitten, balanced on tiny, wavering legs, stared hard
at him, too. He looked from girl to kitten, conscious of the
resemblance, and managed to smother a smile.

"You said," he repeated severely, "that you wanted a chance. I told you
what I could and would do; see that you live and dress decently, stand
for your musical, dramatic, athletic, and terpsichorean education and
drilling--but not for one atom of nonsense. Is that clear?"

She nodded.

"Not one break; not one escapade, Dolly. It's up to you."

"I know it."

"All right, then. What's passed doesn't count. You start in and see what
you can do. They say they drag one about by the hair at those dramatic
schools. If they do, you've got to let 'em. Anyway, things ought to come
easier to you than to some, for you've got a corking education, and you
don't drink sloe-gin, and you don't smoke."

"And I _can_ cook," added the girl gravely, looking at her childish
ringless hands. The rings and a number of other details had been left
behind addressed to the count.

"The trouble will be," said Malcourt, "that you will miss the
brightness and frivolity of things. That kitten won't compensate."

"Do you think so? I haven't had very much of anything--even kittens,"
she said, picking up the soft ball of fur and holding it under her chin.

"You missed the frivolous in life even before you had it. You'll miss it
again, too."

"But I've had it now."

"That doesn't count. The capacity for frivolity is always there. You are
reconciled just now to other things; that man is a beast all right. Oh,
yes; this is reaction, Dolly. The idea is to hang on to this
conservatism when it becomes stupid and irksome; when you're tired and
discouraged, and when you want to be a