he would look out for two ladies
with two roses.

I couldn't make myself into two ladies with two roses, but I must be one
lady with one rose, otherwise the Dragon and I might miss each other,
and he would go out to Versailles to see what the dickens was the
matter. Then the fat would be in the fire, with a vengeance!

You see, I had to say "Yes" to the rose, because there wasn't time to
call at a florist's and try to buy another red label before going on to
the Gare de Lyon. I put out my hand with a "thank you" that sounded as
if it needed oiling, but, as if on second thought the silly idiot asked
if he might keep the flower for himself. "It looks like an English
rose," said he, with a glance which transferred the compliment to me.

"Certainly not--sir," said I. "I need it myself."

"If that's all, you might let me give you a whole bunch to make up for
it," said he.

Then I said, "Go away," which mayn't have been elegant, but was to the
point. And I walked on with long steps toward the place where there were
cabs. But quite a short man is as tall as a tall girl, and his steps
were as long as mine.

"I say," said he, "you needn't be so cross. What's the harm, as long as
we're both English, and this is Paris?"

"I'm not English," I snapped. "If you don't go away I'll call a
gendarme."

"You will look a fool if you do. A great tall girl like you," said he,
trying to be funny. And it did sound funny. I suppose I must have been
pretty nervous, after all I'd gone through with Ellaline, for I almost
giggled, but I didn't, quite. On the contrary, I marched on like a
war-cloud about to burst, and proved my non-British origin by addressing
a cabman in the Parisian French I've inherited from you. I hoped that
the boy couldn't understand, but he did.

"Mademoiselle, I have to go to the Gare de Lyon, too," he announced,
"and it would be a very friendly act, and show that you forgive me, if
you'd let me take you there in a taxi-motor, which you'll find much
nicer than that old Noah's ark you're engaging."

"I don't forgive you," I said, as I mounted into the alleged ark. "Your
only excuse is that you're not grown up yet."

With that Parthian shot I ordered my _cocher_, who was furtively
grinning by this time, to drive on as quickly as possible.

Of course the horrid child from Surbiton or somewhere didn't have to go
to the Gare de Lyon; but evidently he regarded me as his last hope of an
adventure before returning to