because I thought you were afraid of Beau. Yet now you're patting him."

"I _was_ rather afraid at first," I admitted. "I never met an English
bull dog socially before."

"They're more angels than dogs. Their one interest in life is love--for
their friends; and they wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Larger game would be more in their way, I should think," said I. "But
I'm glad he likes me. I like to be liked. It makes me feel more at home
in life."

"H'm! That's a funny idea!" remarked the old lady. "'At home in life!'
You've made yourself pretty well at home in this _wagon-lit_, anyhow,
taking off all your clothes and putting on your nightgown. I should
never have thought of that. It seems hardly decent. Suppose we should be
killed."

"Most people do try to die in their nightgowns, when you come to think
of it," said I.

"Well, you have a quaint way of putting things. There's something very
original about you, my dear young woman. I thought you were mysterious
at first, but I believe it's only the effect of originality."

"I don't know which I'd rather be," I said, "original or mysterious, if
I couldn't afford both. But I'm not a young woman."

"Goodness!" exclaimed the old lady, wrinkling up her eyes to stare at
me. "I may be pretty blind, but it can't be make-up."