expression, in seeing him approach, had changed; but it did not seem to be in any admiration. It was rather, Jill felt, as though there were a kind of instinctive hostility between them. That might simply be because, to a French girl, unused to social life, the presence of any man was intimidating. But she did not look at all intimidated. And Dick most certainly was not black magic to her. Nor was she so to him. That was all Dick's nonsense, thought Jill, glancing up at him and seeing how cold and firm was the gaze he fixed on the young woman.
'Shall I begin, Madame?' Mademoiselle Ludérac inquired, looking over at her patroness.
'Ah—if our guests wish you to;—by all means, begin; begin, I beg of you!' cried the old lady. 'She plays divinely!—I asked her to play to-night knowing that it was the only offering I could make to you.—Great critics have lauded her;—you cannot deny it, Marthe!—With time she will be famous, and you will be glad to think that you heard her on the threshold of her career.—She is a marvel! a marvel!' cried the old lady, while Mademoiselle Ludérac, who had risen and gone to her harp, stood making no comment on these extravagances.
'Here; come and sit beside your bénitier,' Madame de Lamouderie continued, motioning Graham back to his chair. 'It is not well to be too near the harp. Ours is the best place. It is a very penetrating instrument.—My mother played the harp when I was a child—and sang;—like Corinne. Madame de Staël, indeed,
