As Antoinette does not understand literary English, and as
Carlotta did not know what in the world I was talking about, I
was master of the conversational situation. Carlotta went to the
mantel-piece and returned with a glutinous mass of sweet stuff
between her fingers.

"Will Seer Marcous have some? It is nougat."
I declined.
"Oh!" she said, tragically disappointed. "It is good."

There is something in that silly creature's eyes that I cannot
resist. She put the abominable morsel into my mouth--it was far
too sticky for me to hold--and laughingly licked her own fingers.

I went down to work again with an uneasy feeling of imperilled
dignity.


May 29th.

I sent her word that I would take her for a drive this afternoon.
She was to be ready at three o'clock. It will be wholesome for
her to regard her outings with me as rare occurrences to be
highly valued. Ordinarily she will go out with Antoinette--for
the present at least--as she did yesterday.

At three o'clock Stenson informed me that the cab was at the
door.