though there was no denying the fact that the great jagged tear in the silk was a serious blemish in her otherwise faultless turn-out.
"All! All! And you expect me to get across Paris like that? Bah, merci alors!"
"I don't expect anything," said Grover humbly. "But why not make for the nearest shop?"
She heaved a great sigh of forebearance. "Because I had no money with me! Now do you see?"
With the best will in the world it was hard to take the situation tragically. Indeed when he reflected upon Léon's chronic insolvency, it harbored an element of comedy. Still the bills of the Vaudreuil family must get themselves paid by somebody.
He was about to suggest a solution, one of several that occurred to him, when she hopped down from the piano and went to look out the high window. Coming back at once and stopping before his chair, she amazed him by saying, "You're far too good for Léon; what the devil are you doing here?"
"Trying desperately not to bore you," he confessed with a grim rush of words.
She paid no heed to them, but again surveyed her stocking. "Oh-h-h!" she was crying, in a low tone of horror. "Que c'est ennuyeux! . . . Where do you suppose he is? It's always been like that—if at any time I needed him, and it hasn't been often, he wasn't there."
A dozen questions had arisen in Grover's mind as
