under some plausible pretext. She felt it necessary also to be very
cautious how she treated the enemy whom she was forced to shelter under
her own roof. Her policy--a policy imposed on her by force of
circumstances--was one of great indulgence and consideration, so that
Jacqueline, soon feeling that she was for the present under no control,
took the bit between her teeth. No other impression can adequately
convey an idea of the sort of fury with which she plunged into pleasure
and excitement, a state of mind which apparently, without any transition,
succeeded her late melancholy. She had done with sentiment, she thought,
forever. She meant to be practical and positive, a little Parisienne,
and "in the swim." There were plenty of examples among those she knew
that she could follow. Berthe, Helene, and Claire Wermant were excellent
leaders in that sort of thing. Those three daughters of the 'agent de
change' were at this time at Treport, in charge of a governess, who let
them do whatever they pleased, subject only to be scolded by their
father, who came down every Saturday to Treport, on that train that was
called the 'train des maris'. They had made friends with two or three
American girls, who were called "fast," and Jacqueline was soon enrolled
in the ranks of that gay company.

The cure that was begun on the wooden horse at Blackfern's was completed
on the sea-shore.

The girls with whom she now associated were nine or ten little imps of
Satan, who, with their hair flying in the wind and their caps over one
ear, made the quiet beach ring with their boy-like gayety. They were
called "the Blue Band," because of a sort of uniform that they adopted.
We speak of them intentionally as masculine, and not feminine, because
what is masculine best suited their appearance and behavior, for, though
all could flirt like coquettes of experience, they were more like boys