s the interviewer, I own. I wish him, and
those who employ him, a better trade; and a better taste to whoever
reads what he writes. But Barty could be hard-hearted to nobody, and
always regretted having granted the interview when he saw the
published outcome of it.

Fortunately, M. Paroly was decently discreet.

"I've got a Frenchman coming this afternoon--a tremendous swell,"
said Barty, at lunch.

* * * * *

_Leah._ "Who is he?"

_Barty._ "M. Paroly, of the _Debats_."

_Leah._ "What is he when he's at home?"

_Barty._ "A famous journalist; as you'd know if you'd read the
French newspapers sometimes, which you never do."

_Leah._ "Haven't got the time. He's coming to interview you, I
suppose, and make French newspaper copy out of you."

_Barty._ "Why shouldn't he come just for the pleasure of making my
acquaintance?"

_Leah._ "And mine--I'll be there and talk to him, too!"

_Barty._ "My dear, he probably doesn't speak a word of English; and
your French, you know! You never _would_ learn French properly,
although you've had me to practise on for so many years--not to
mention Bob and Ida."

_Leah._ "How unkind of you, Barty! When have I had time to trouble
about French? Besides, you always laugh at my French accent and
mimic it--and _that's_ not encouraging!"

_Barty._ "My dear, I _adore_ your French accent; it's so unaffected!
I only wish I heard it a little oftener."

_Leah._ "You shall hear it this afternoon. At what o'clock is he
coming, your Monsieur Paroly?"

_Barty._ "At four-thirty."

_Leah._ "Oh, Barty, _don't_ give yourself away--don't talk to him about
your writings, or about yourself, or about your family. He'll vulgarize
you all over France. Surely you've not forgotten that nice 'gentleman'
from America who came to see you, and who told you that _he_ was no
interviewer, not _he_! but came merely as a friend and admirer--a
distant but constant worshipper for many years! and how you talked to
him like a long-lost brother, in consequence! 'There's nobody in the
world like the best Americans,' you said. You adored them _all_, and
wanted to be an American yourself--till a month after, when he published
every word you said, and more, and what sort of cravat you had on, and
how silent and cold and uncommunicative your good, motherly English wife
was--you, the brilliant and talkative Barty Josselin, who should have
mated with a countrywoman of his own! and how you