there. You will remain with Miss Vance."

"Yes, I know. I am to remain----" Frances passed her
hand once or twice over her mouth irresolutely. "But
Oxford, George?" she said. "You forget your
examinations?"

George took off his spectacles and wiped them.

"Speak! Have you no mind of your own?" his wife
whispered. "I will tell you, then, madam. He has done
with that silly whim! A priest, indeed! I am Catholic,
and priests do not marry. He goes to Paris to study art.
I see a great future for him, in art."

Frances stared at him, and then sat down, dully. What
did it matter? Paris or Oxford? She would not be there.
What did it matter?

Lisa waited a moment for some comment, and then began
sharply, "Now, we come to affaires! Listen, if you
please. I am a woman of business. Plain speaking is
always best, to my idea."


Mrs. Waldeaux drew herself together and turned her eyes
on her with sudden apprehension, as she would on a
snapping dog. The woman's tones threatened attack.

"To live in Paris, to work effectively, your son must