with great determination. "The small amount you have in that little cup
will not hurt you; and besides it is a special coffee, L'Ami Fritz's own
mixture"--she laughed heartily.

And again? Sylvia noticed that Monsieur Wachner looked at his wife
with a fixed, rather angry look, as much as to say, "Why are you always
laughing? Why cannot you be serious sometimes?"

"But to-night, honestly, I would really rather not have any coffee!"

Sylvia had suddenly seen a vision of herself lying wide awake during long
dark hours--hours which, as she knew by experience, generally bring to
the sleepless, worrying thoughts.

"No, no, I will not have any coffee to-night," she repeated.

"Yes, yes, dear friend, you really must," Madame Wachner spoke very
persuasively. "I should be truly sorry if you did not take this coffee.
Indeed, it would make me think you were angry with us because of the very
bad supper we had given you! L'Ami Fritz would not have taken the trouble
to make coffee for his old wife. He has made it for you, only for you; he
will be hurt if you do not take it!"

The coffee did look very tempting and fragrant.

Sylvia had always disliked coffee in England, but somehow French coffee
was quite different; it had quite another taste from that of the mixture
which the ladies of Market Dalling pressed on their guests at their
dinner-parties.