THE ARM-CHAIR AT THE INN
your ugly teeth. No, I won’t take any apologies,” and another laugh—a whole chime of silver bells this time—rang through the room.
“What a pity it is,” she continued after her opponent had left the room, “that people who get old forget so soon what their own youth has meant to them. He takes this child, puts a soul into her by his kindness, and then, when she becomes a woman, builds a fence around her—not for her protection but for his own pride. It will be so much more honorable, he says to himself, for the great house of Lemois to have one of his distinguished waifs honorably settled in an honorable home,” and she lifted her shoulders ever so slightly. “Not a word, you will please note, about the girl or what she wants—nothing whatever of that kind. And he is such a dear too. But I won’t have it, and I’m going to tell him so!” she added, her brown eyes blazing as her heart went out once more to the girl.
All through the dinner the marquise made no further reference to the love affair, although I could see that it was still on her mind, for when Mignon entered and began moving about the room in her demure, gentle way, her lids