family."

"I didn't know there was anything to tell," Diane answered, innocently.

"I suppose there isn't, from your European point of view; but, as we
Americans see things, there's a good deal that's significant. Foreigners
care so little about who or what we are, so long as we have money."

Diane raised her hand in a gesture of deprecation, intimating that such
was not her attitude of mind.

"And I've never wanted to bore you with what, after all, wasn't
necessary for you to hear. I shouldn't do so now if it had not become
important. There's a great deal to settle and arrange."

"I can understand that there must be business affairs," Diane murmured,
for the sake of saying something.

"Exactly; and in order to make them clear to you, I must take you a
little further back into our history than you've ever gone before. I
want you to see how much more responsible I am than you for our
calamity. You were born into this life of Paris, while I came into it of
my own accord. You did nothing but yield naturally to the influences
around you, while I accepted them after having been fully warned. If you
knew a little more of our American ideals I should find it easier to
explain."

"I should like to hear about them," Diane said, sympathetically. The new
interest was beginning to take her out of herself.