“Oh, but it looks very fat,” she exclaimed.  “Are you sure you counted right?”

“There’s a little more there,” he said, uncomfortably, “just a little to save the bother of counting here in the street.  Don’t look angry.  Only the salary part’s for you, of course, but the rest—­couldn’t you just hand it over to your mother, and say, ‘Winnings at the Casino’?  That’s true, you know; it was, every bit.  And you needn’t say who won it.  Besides, if it hadn’t been for you, it would have been lost instead of won.  It would be a kind of Christmas present for your mother from the Casino, which really owes her a lot more.”

The girl shook her head, gently.  “I couldn’t do that, even for my mother’s sake; but I don’t misunderstand, now we are such friends.  I know how kindly you mean, and though neither mother nor I can accept presents of money, even from dear friends (after all we are of the noblesse!) I’m not going to hurt you by giving the money back, if you will do what I ask of you.”

“What is that?” He felt ready to do anything within reason.

“Let us sell you our dear little dog, for this extra money you have put into my bag.  He is very, very valuable, for he cost thousands of francs, the sweet pet, so you would really have something not unworthy, in return for your goodness.  Ah, don’t say no.  You would love Papillon, and we should love you to have him.  We couldn’t have parted with our little darling to a stranger, though we were starving; but it would make us happy to think he was yours.  And then, if you won’t, you must take all this back.”  As she spoke, she touched the bag on her arm.

“Oh, I’ll have the dog!” Hugh Egerton said, quickly.  Anything rather than the girl should return the money, which she so much needed.  “I remember he was a dear little chap, Pomeranian or something of the sort.  I hope he likes motors.”

“He will like whatever you like.  If you will come and fetch him this evening, I will show you all his tricks.  Do come.  It would be good to see you again so soon.”

“With pleasure,” said the young man, flushing slightly.  “If you think your mother will be well enough to receive me?”

“The news I have to give will almost cure her.  If you would dine with us?  They will give us a dinner, now”—­and she laughed childishly—­“when I have paid the bill.  It will be very stupid for you at a place like this, but you will have a welcome, and it is the best we can do.”

“It is the welcome I want,” said Hugh.  “But if you and your mother could dine with me somewhere—­”

“Another time we will.”

There were to be other times, of course!

“And this evening,” she went on, “we can talk of my beginning work, as your secretary.  It shall be directly after Christmas?”

“Whenever you are ready.”

“I suppose you have friends to whom you will go for Christmas?”

“Not a friend.”