Mrs. Grandon up to her chamber adjoining her own, and
begins to take off her wraps as a daughter might, as Mrs. Grandon's
daughters never have done. The attention is so delicate and graceful.

Floyd meanwhile marches around the room in an idle man fashion. It is
in itself a fascination, perhaps not altogether of her choosing, but
the fact of her taking it at all presupposes her being in some degree
pleased. The art was all there, doubtless, but madame has left her
impress as well in the little added touches, the vase where no one
expected it, the flowers that suggested themselves, played a kind of
hide-and-seek game with you through their fragrance, the picture at a
seductive angle of light, the social grouping of the chairs, the tables
with their open portfolios. He half wishes some one could do this for
the great house up at the park, give it the air of grace and interest
and human life.

Madame Lepelletier comes down in the midst of these musings, alone.
They might have parted yesterday, the best and most commonplace
friends, for anything in her face. He has an uneasy feeling, as if an
explanation was due, and yet he knows explanations are often blunders.

"It was very kind of you to think of taking mother out of her petty
daily round," he says. "Let me thank you!"

"Oh!" she answers, "do not compel me to apologize for a bit of selfish
motive at the bottom. And I am glad to see you. You are in the list of
those who achieve greatness, I believe," with a most fascinating smile.

"Or have it fall upon them as a shadow from some other source! I am not
quite sure of my own prowess. That will be when I attempt something
alone."

"I was so sorry not to meet your friend the other evening, though I
hope it is only a pleasure deferred. Do you feel at home in your native
land? Was it not a little strange after all these years?"

"I could hardly feel strange after the cordial greeting," he says. "It
was delightful; I am sorry you missed it. Will you allow me to present
my friend, Prof. Freilgrath, to you?"

"If you will be so kind after my apparent incivility. You know I am so
generally well that it seems any excuse on the point of health must be
a----"

"You shall not use harsh terms," and he smiles. She is the beautiful,
brilliant incarnation of health, a picture good to look upon. He cannot
but study her, as he has times before. The splendor of her dark eyes
falls softly upon him, her breath comes and goes in waves