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THE UNSPEAKABLE GENTLEMAN

My father raised his hand hastily to his coat lapel.

"Is there never a woman who will not reduce matters to personalities," he murmured. "I should have known better. I see it now. I should have made love to you."

Though her voice was grave, there was laughter in her eyes.

"I have often wondered why you did not. It was the only method you seem to have overlooked."

"There is one mistake a man always makes about women." He smiled and glanced at us both, and then back at his wine again. "He forgets they are all alike. Sooner or later he sees one that in some strange way seems different. I thought you were different, Mademoiselle. Heaven forgive me, I thought you even rational. Surely you have every reason to dislike me. Let us be serious, Mademoiselle. You do not hate me?"

"I am afraid," said Mademoiselle, "that you have had quite an opposite effect."

In spite of myself I started. Could it be that I was jealous? Her eyes were lowered to the arm of her chair, and she was intent on the delicate carving of the mahogany. It

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