“Of course, dead leaves—­so strange.  I remember when I was a girl, before we came to London, we had a foxhound puppy—­to ‘walk’ it was called then; it had a tan top to its head and a white chest, and beautiful dark brown eyes, and it was a lady.”

“Yes, auntie,” said Francie, “but I don’t see the connection.”

“Oh!” replied Aunt Juley, rather flustered, “it was so alluring, and her eyes and hair, you know....”  She was silent, as if surprised in some indelicacy.  “Feuille morte,” she added suddenly; “Hester—­do remember that!"....

Considerable debate took place between the two sisters whether Timothy should or should not be summoned to see Annette.

“Oh, don’t bother!” said Soames.

“But it’s no trouble, only of course Annette’s being French might upset him a little.  He was so scared about Fashoda.  I think perhaps we had better not run the risk, Hester.  It’s nice to have her all to ourselves, isn’t it?  And how are you, Soames?  Have you quite got over your....”

Hester interposed hurriedly: 

“What do you think of London, Annette?”

Soames, disquieted, awaited the reply.  It came, sensible, composed:  “Oh!  I know London.  I have visited before.”

He had never ventured to speak to her on the subject of the restaurant.  The French had different notions about gentility, and to shrink from connection with it might seem to her ridiculous; he had waited to be married before mentioning it; and now he wished he hadn’t.

“And what part do you know best?” said Aunt Juley.

“Soho,” said Annette simply.

Soames snapped his jaw.

“Soho?” repeated Aunt Juley; “Soho?”

‘That’ll go round the family,’ thought Soames.

“It’s very French, and interesting,” he said.

“Yes,” murmured Aunt Juley, “your Uncle Roger had some houses there once; he was always having to turn the tenants out, I remember.”

Soames changed the subject to Mapledurham.

“Of course,” said Aunt Juley, “you will be going down there soon to settle in.  We are all so looking forward to the time when Annette has a dear little....”

“Juley!” cried Aunt Hester desperately, “ring tea!”

Soames dared not wait for tea, and took Annette away.

“I shouldn’t mention Soho if I were you,” he said in the cab.  “It’s rather a shady part of London; and you’re altogether above that restaurant business now; I mean,” he added, “I want you to know nice people, and the English are fearful snobs.”

Annette’s clear eyes opened; a little smile came on her lips.

“Yes?” she said.

‘H’m!’ thought Soames, ‘that’s meant for me!’ and he looked at her hard.  ‘She’s got good business instincts,’ he thought.  ’I must make her grasp it once for all!’

“Look here, Annette! it’s very simple, only it wants understanding.  Our professional and leisured classes still think themselves a cut above our business classes, except of course the very rich.  It may be stupid, but there it is, you see.  It isn’t advisable in England to let people know that you ran a restaurant or kept a shop or were in any kind of trade.  It may have been extremely creditable, but it puts a sort of label on you; you don’t have such a good time, or meet such nice people—­that’s all.”