by coming here,' she said slowly. 'But to-day she will not, I know, be persuaded to come in. She is not at all accustomed to the world. She is very farouche; very sauvage—how do you say, very shy and timid indeed,' said the old lady, helping herself out with the English words. 'And she would not interest you, Madame, oh, not in any way. She is a simple country girl; a simple, good little bourgeoise. She does not know of any of the things that interest gens du monde, like ourselves. She does not know the world at all.'
'But I have heaps of friends who are not gens du monde,' said Jill, looking at the old lady with the thoughtfulness that was, as far as she was concerned, her nearest approach to displeasure. 'In fact I don't think I know many gens du monde at all;—except Dick's mother,' and Jill cast a glance of shared amusement upon her husband. 'She's very, very du monde; more than we always care for, isn't she, Dick?'
'Far more,' said Graham, tersely.
'And if Mademoiselle Ludérac is timid she'll have to get used to us,' Jill went on, while the old lady's eyes turned with their manifest anxiety from one to the other. 'Since we shall probably be here all spring, she'll have plenty of time. Perhaps she'll take me for some walks, in the mornings, while Dick paints you.'
The arrest in the old lady that followed these words was even more pronounced than the first had been, though Jill soon saw that they had induced relief and not dismay. 'But she will be honoured;—charmed, indeed, if you will indeed bear with her.—It will not
