his son, who had
been standing before the fire, went out of the room. His abstention from
protest at Gaston's petulance was the more generous as he was capable,
for his part, of feeling it to make for a greater amenity in the whole
connexion that ces messieurs should like the little girl at the hotel.
Gaston didn't care a straw what it made for, and would have seen himself
in bondage indeed had he given a second thought to the question. This
was especially the case as his father's mention of the approval of two
of his brothers-in-law appeared to point to a possible disapproval
on the part of the third. Francie's lover cared as little whether she
displeased M. de Brecourt as he cared whether she pleased Maxime and
Raoul. Mr. Probert continued to read, and in a few moments Gaston was
with him again. He had expressed surprise, just before, at the wealth of
discussion his sisters had been ready to expend in his interest, but
he managed to convey now that there was still a point of a certain
importance to be made. "It seems rather odd to me that you should all
appear to accept the step I'M about to take as a necessity disagreeable
at the best, when I myself hold that I've been so exceedingly
fortunate."

Mr. Probert lowered his book accommodatingly and rested his eyes on
the fire. "You won't be content till we're enthusiastic. She seems an
amiable girl certainly, and in that you're fortunate."

"I don't think you can tell me what would be better--what you'd have
preferred," the young man said.

"What I should have preferred? In the first place you must remember that
I wasn't madly impatient to see you married."

"I can imagine that, and yet I can't imagine that as things have turned
out you shouldn't be struck with my felicity. To get something so
charming and to get it of our own species!" Gaston explained.

"Of our own species? Tudieu!" said his father, looking up.

"Surely it's infinitely fresher and more amusing for me to marry
an American. There's a sad want of freshness--there's even a
provinciality--in the way we've Gallicised."

"Against Americans I've nothing to say; some of them are the best thing
the world contains. That's precisely why one can choose. They're far
from doing all like that."

"Like what, dear father?"

"Comme ces gens-la. You know that if they were French, being otherwise
what they are, one wouldn't look at them."

"Indeed one would; they would be such rare curiosities."

"Well, perha