CHAPTER XXVI
IF IT had n't been for the hope of seeing Jack again, I should have said that I wanted nothing to eat, when I was asked; but I thought that he might come to the servants' dining-room, if only because he would expect to find me there; and I was right: he came.
"What an imbroglio!" I whispered, as he joined me at the table, where hot soup and cold chicken were set forth.
"Not at all," said he, cheerfully. "Things are better for me than I thought. Roquemartine did n't recognize me, I 'm sure, for if he had, he would have said so. He is n't a snob. But I rather hoped he would have forgotten. I came as a stranger, brought by a friend of his and mine, was here only for a meal (we were motoring then, too)—and it 's three years ago."
"But the marquise?"
"She 's a bran new one. I fancied I 'd heard that the wife died. This one has the air of a bride, and I should say she 's an American."
"Yes. She is. The maid who showed me my room told me. The other girl who came out of doors, is her sister. They 're fearfully rich, it seems, and that young brute wants to marry her."
"Thank you for the descriptive adjective, my little partizan, but you 're troubling yourself for me more than
