home? Ambrose Deacon. You see you owe me something.
I will tell them, Ambrose groaned, and I am sure they will be delighted.
Ambrose, I know your great heart! I know how good you are. I know you will do what I ask. It is dificult for me to go to them, but when you tell them I want to come they will fly to me. I do not know what it is, this feeling I have for you. It is nothing I have felt before. It is a new sensation. I cannot therefore explain it. But I must be frank. I am always frank. It is my nature to say what is in my heart, isn't it? Therefore I say that Jaime has reason to be jealous of you.
Where is the Count? Ambrose demanded in some alarm.
She smiled. Poor Jaime, she murmured, shaking her head back and forth, poor Jaime, I sent him away tonight to do me a favour. There is nothing . . . nothing . . . she was speaking with more determination . . . that he would not do for me. Perhaps, she explained sweetly, that is the reason I am more interested in some one who seems to regard my charms with indifference.
At any rate, she continued, after a pause during which a comparatively frozen Ambrose made no
