I was afraid she was going to cry as she clung to your hand like that just now when we left her. She's afraid she won't see you again, of course; but she shall; she shall,' said Jill, fumbling for her cigarettes, since Dick had her by the arm, and getting out her matches.
'You wouldn't mind coming back? I don't know, really, about the old lady; it needs a Goya and a Manet rolled in one to do her with the parrot beside her; but I could go on painting this country for the rest of my life.'
'Well, I shouldn't like to spend the rest of my life here, I confess,' said Jill. 'But I do want you to come back and keep your promise. I want to see Marthe Ludérac, too. And she'll be here in the spring. She's young and sad and kind; rather a wonderful person, I feel. And Madame de Lamouderie feels a little glum about her. I wonder why. Perhaps because of the noblesse blood that she doesn't think a Jacquard has aright to. Perhaps it was because of the noblesse blood that the mother didn't care to be mixed up with the gravel and the tin tubs and moved into the grass—and almost into the chestnut forest.'
'Perhaps it was. Pretty good, Jill. But the old lady interested me more than the young one, and she doesn't interest me much except for her looks.'
'Oh, you must be kind to her! You mustn't flirt with her and lead her on and then not really care.'
'She knows I'm ragging her.'
'She's afraid you are, but hopes you're not. There's something one does like in her, Dick, in spite of the
