taller, and, in comparison with what he was, he's almost
wasted away, and so sunburned I hardly knew him. Except round
the forehead," she added, mockingly, "and I suppose the sun
couldn't burn there because of the laurel-wreaths. I hear
they bring them to you fresh every morning."

"They're better than coronets, at any rate," Gordon answered,
with a nod. "They're not so common. And if I'm wasted away,
can you wonder? How long has it been since I saw you, Patty?"

"No, I'm wrong, he's not changed," Miss Carson said dryly, as
she seated herself beside her mother.

"How do you two come to be stopping here?" the young man
asked. "I thought this hotel had been turned over to King
Louis?"

"It has," Mrs. Carson answered. "We are staying at the
Continental, on the hill there. We are only here for
breakfast. He asked us to breakfast."

"He?" repeated Gordon, with an incredulous smile. "Who? Not
the King--not that blackguard?"

Miss Carson raised her head, and stared at him in silence, and
her mother gave a little gasp, apparently of relief and
satisfaction.

"Yes," Miss Carson answered at last, coldly. "We are
breakfasting with him. What do you know against him?"