t to Mr. Probert.

Francie remembered now--she had forgotten it--Margaret de Cliche's
having told her she meant to come again. She hoped the marquise thought
by this time that, on canvas at least, she looked a little more like a
lady. Mme. de Cliche smiled at her at any rate and kissed her, as if
in fact there could be no mistake. She smiled also at Mr. Flack, on
Francie's introducing him, and only looked grave when, after she had
asked where the others were--the papa and the grande soeur--the girl
replied that she hadn't the least idea: her party consisted only of
herself and Mr. Flack. Then Mme. de Cliche's grace stiffened, taking on
a shade that brought back Francie's sense that she was the individual,
among all Gaston's belongings, who had pleased her least from the first.
Mme. de Douves was superficially more formidable, but with her the
second impression was comparatively comforting. It was just this second
impression of the marquise that was not. There were perhaps others
behind it, but the girl hadn't yet arrived at them. Mr. Waterlow
mightn't have been very much prepossessed with Mr. Flack, but he was
none the less perfectly civil to him and took much trouble to show him
the work he had in hand, dragging out canvases, changing lights, moving
him off to see things at the other end of the great room. While the two
gentlemen were at a distance Mme. de Cliche expressed to Francie the
conviction that she would allow her to see her home: on which Francie
replied that she was not going home, but was going somewhere else with
Mr. Flack. And she explained, as if it simplified the matter, that this
gentleman was a big editor. Her sister-in-law that was to be echoed
the term and Francie developed her explanation. He was not the only big
editor, but one of the many big editors, of an enormous American paper.
He was going to publish an article--as big, as enormous, as all the rest
of the business--about her portrait. Gaston knew him perfectly: it was
Mr. Flack who had been the cause of Gaston's being presented to her.
Mme. de Cliche looked across at him as if the inadequacy of the cause
projected an unfavourable light upon an effect hitherto perhaps not
exactly measured; she appealed as to whether Francie thought Gaston
would like her to drive about Paris alone with one of ces messieurs.
"I'm sure I don't know. I never asked him!" said Francie. "He ought to
want me to be polite to a person who did so much for us." Soon after