"My friend knows of two people who would be likely to need me: one, a
titled lady here in England, who might be 'very glad to have me'--I am
quoting that, please--as governess to her little boy. The other, a young
French girl who is returning shortly to Paris, who also might be 'glad
to have me' as companion. Of course, I would sooner remain in England,
but--well, it is nicer to be a companion than a governess; and the young
lady is very nearly my own age. Indeed, we were actually at the same
school together when we were very little girls."

"I see," said Cleek, a trifle gloomily. "So then it is possible that it
will, eventually, be the young French lady and--Paris, in future. When,
do you fancy? Soon?"

"Oh, I don't know about that. I haven't quite made up my mind as yet
which of the two it will be. And then there's the application to be sent
afterwards."

"Still, it will be one of the two certainly?"

"Oh, yes. I shall have to earn my living in future, you know; so,
naturally, of course--" She gave her shoulder an eloquent upward
movement, and let the rest go by default.

Cleek did not speak for a moment: merely walked on beside her--a ridge
between his eyebrows and his lower lip sucked in; as if he were mentally
debating upon something and was afraid he might speak incautiously. But
of a sudden:

"Miss Lorne," he said, in a curiously tense voice, "may I ask you