"Doña Clorinde? Oh, I suppose they 'll shoot her; they generally shoot the women, in French plays," Littlemore said.
"It will remind me of San Diego!" cried Mrs. Headway.
"Ah, at San Diego the women did the shooting."
"They don't seem to have killed you!" Mrs. Headway rejoined, archly.
"No, but I am riddled with wounds."
"Well, this is very remarkable," the lady went on, turning to Houdon's statue. "It 's beautifully modelled."
"You are perhaps reading M. de Voltaire," Littlemore suggested.
"No; but I 've purchased his works."
"They are not proper reading for ladies," said the young Englishman, severely, offering his arm to Mrs. Headway.
"Ah, you might have told me before I had bought them!" she exclaimed, in exaggerated dismay.
"I could n't imagine you would buy a hundred and fifty volumes."
"A hundred and fifty? I have only bought two."
"Perhaps two won't hurt you?" said Littlemore with a smile.
She darted him a reproachful ray. "I know what you mean,—that I 'm too bad already! Well, bad as I am, you must come and see me." And she threw him the name of her hotel, as she walked away with her Englishman. Waterville looked after the
