"I 've always heard that Cannes was gay."
"It won't be for me."
"Your relations there don't go out much?"
"I 've no relations in Cannes. Are n't you tired now, and would n't you like me to make you a little more comfortable?"
"Does that mean that you 're tired of answering questions? I have n't meant to be rude."
"You have n't been," I assured her. "You 're very kind to take an interest."
"Well, then, I 'm not tired, and I wouldn't like to be made more comfortable. I 'm very well as I am. Do you want to go to sleep?"
"I want to, but I know I can't. I 'm getting hungry. Are you?"
"Getting? I 've got. If Simpkins were here I 'd have her make us tea, in my tea-basket."
"I 'll make it if you like," I volunteered.
"A French—a half French—girl make tea?"
"It 's the American half that knows how."
"You look too ornamental to be useful. But you can try."
I did try, and succeeded. It was rather fun, and never did tea taste so delicious. There were biscuits to go with it, which Beau shared; and I do wish that people (other people) were obliged to make faces when they eat, such as Beau has to make, because if so, one could add a new interest to life by inviting even the worst bores to dinner.
I was fascinated with his contortions, and I did not attempt to conceal my sudden change of opinion con-
