nied him through the dining salon, became pinker. "Since Madame permits" was not in the right key, he feared. It had too much the air of an effort for the eighteenth century, or, what was infinitely worse, it might be a form employed by French chauffeurs and servants. At the best it had an artificial sound even in his own ears as he heard himself saying it, and he wished he had been simpler. "Since Madame permits" might even be as bad, though in the opposite direction, as Tinker's awful "Mrs. Mummero."
But she appeared to find nothing objectionable in either. "You are kind to stay and help me not to bore myself," she said. "My poor little boy, my son, who travels with me, must all day remain in his cabin, writing upon a report for our Department of Education, where he has a little position, poor child; and I have only two other compatriots upon this boat, two ladies with whom we play a little bridge; but one has got an affection of her ear, so her sister stays all day with her. I am interested in your friend, Mr. Tinker, who seems to be such a good friend of everybody. Have you known him long?"
"No, no, no! Not at all," Ogle replied hurriedly.
