her sitting-room I saw that she had contrived to make it look like
herself. She talked only about her books and photographs and flowers
until the coffee had come, and we seemed better acquainted. Then she
told me that she was Lady Kilmarny--"Irish in every drop in her veins";
and presently set herself to draw me out.

I began by making up my mind not to pour forth all my troubles, lest she
should think that I wanted to take advantage of her kindness and sponge
upon her for help; but she was irresistible, as only a true Irishwoman
can be, and the first thing I knew, I had emptied my heart of its
worries.




CHAPTER III


"You will have to go back to the cousins you've been living with in
Paris," pronounced Lady Kilmarny. "You're much too young and pretty to
be _anywhere_ alone."

"I can't go on living with them unless I promise to marry Monsieur
Charretier," I explained. "I'd rather scrub floors than marry Monsieur
Charretier."

"You'd never finish one floor. The second would finish you. I thought
French girls--well, then, _half_ French girls--usually let their people
arrange their marriages."