reproved.

"But of the feeling that prompts the look you can be in no doubt.
Moreover, a look is silent."

"Nonsense," said she. "Besides, I want to ask you a favour. You see, I'm
prepared to go out--and I want you to go with me. Will you do it?"

"It will have to be mightily against my conscience to make me refuse
_you_," Harleston replied.

"I'm glad you recognize a conscience," she remarked.

"I refer to my diplomatic conscience."

"And a diplomatic conscience is a minus quantity," she observed.

"What is it you would of me, dear lady?" he asked.

"I would that you should go with me to the French Ambassador, and help
me to explain the--now don't say you won't, Mr. Harleston--"

"My dear Mrs. Clephane, it is--" he began.

"It is _not_ impossible!" she declared. "Why won't you do it?"

"For your sake as well as for my own," he explained. "America and France
are not working together in this matter, and for me to accompany you
would result simply in your being obliged to explain _me_ as well as the
letter, besides leading to endless complications and countless