“You have looked forward to coming to London so much?” I asked.

“Yes!” she answered.  “I have lived a very quiet life, Capitaine Rotherby.  After the Sisters had finished with me—­and I stayed at the school longer than any of the others—­I went straight to the house of a friend of my uncle’s, where I had only a dame de compagnie.  My uncle—­he was so long coming, and the life was very dull.  But always he wrote to me, ‘Some day I will take you to London!’ Even when we were in Paris together he would tell me that.”

“Tell me,” I asked, “what is your uncle’s Christian name?”

“I have three uncles,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation,—­“Maurice, Ferdinand, and Nicholas.  Nicholas lives all the time in South America.  Maurice and Ferdinand are often in Paris.”

“And the uncle with whom you are now?” I asked.

I seemed to have been unfortunate in my choice of a conversation.  Her eyes had grown larger.  The quivering of her lips was almost pitiful.

“I am a clumsy ass!” I interrupted quickly.  “I am asking you questions which you do not wish to answer.  A little later on, perhaps, you will tell me everything of your own accord.  But to-night I shall ask you nothing.  We will remember only that the holiday has begun.”

She drew a little sigh of relief.

“You are so kind,” she murmured, “so very kind.  Indeed I do not want to think of these things, which I do not understand, and which only puzzle me all the time.  We will let them alone, is it not so?  We will let them alone and talk about foolish things.  Or you shall tell me about London, and the country—­tell me what we will do.  Indeed, I may go down to your home in Norfolk.”

“I think you will like it there,” I said.  “It is too stuffy for London these months.  My brother’s house is not far from the sea.  There is a great park which stretches down to some marshes, and beyond that the sands.”

“Can one bathe?” she asked breathlessly.

“Of course,” I answered.  “There is a private beach, and when we have people in the house at this time of the year we always have the motor-car ready to take them down and back.  That is for those who bathe early.  Later on it is only a pleasant walk.  Then you can learn games if you like,—­golf and tennis, cricket and croquet.”

“I should be so stupid,” she said, with a little regretful sigh.  “In France they did not teach me those things.  I can play tennis a little, but oh! so badly; and in England,” she continued, “you think so much of your games.  Tell me, Capitaine Rotherby, will you think me very stupid in the country if I can do nothing but swim a little and play tennis very badly?”

“Rather not!” I answered.  “There is the motor, you know.  I could take you for some delightful drives.  We should find plenty to do, I am sure, and I promise you that if only you will be as amiable as you are here I shall not find any fault.”