one like that--such
a--such a--such a wonderful young lady wanting you--in her trouble--"

"And such a wonderful young man wanting his money back. Oh, I'm not
blind, monsieur. I see a great deal more than you think. I see through
and through you. You fancy you're throwing dust in my eyes, and you
haven't thrown a grain. Pouff! Oh, la, la! Mais, c'est fini. As for my
niece--le bon Dieu l' a bien punie. For me to step in now would be to
interfere with the chastisement of Providence. Le bon Dieu is always
right. I'll say that for Him. Good morning." She touched a bell. "The
man will show you to the door. If you like to stroll about the
grounds--now that you've got in--well, you can."

With sleeves blowing she sped down the room as if on pinions. The
man-servant waited respectfully. Davenant stood his ground, hoping for
some sign of her relenting. It was almost over her shoulder that she
called back:

"Where are you staying?"

He told her.

"Stupid place. You'll find the Chariot d'Or at Melcourt a great deal
nicer. Simple, but clean. An old chef of mine keeps it. Tell him I sent
you. And ask for his poularde au riz."

XXI

"What do you think of him?"

Ashley's tone indicated some uncertainty as to what he thought himself.
Indeed, uncertainty was indicated elsewhere than in his tone. It seemed
to hang about him, to look from his eyes, to take form in his person.
Perhaps this was the one change wrought in him by a month's residence in
America. When he arrived everything had bespoken him a man aggressively
positive with the habit of being sure. His very attitude, now, as he sat
in Rodney Temple's office in the Harvard Gallery of Fine Arts, his hands
thrust into his pockets, his legs stretched apart, his hat on the back
of his head, suggested one who feels the foundations of the earth to
have shifted.

Rodney Temple, making his arrangements for leaving for the day, met one
question with another. "What do _you?_"

"You know him," Ashley urged, "and I don't."

"I thought you did. I thought you'd read him right off--as a
cow-puncher."

"He looks like one, by Jove! and he speaks like one, too. You wouldn't
call him a gentleman? What?"

"If you mean by a gentleman one who's always been able to take the best
in the world for granted, perhaps he isn't. But that isn't our
test--over here."

"Then, what is?"

"I'm not sure that I could tell you so that you'd understand--at any
rate, not unless you start out