“This is all madness,” she declared wearily. . “Monsieur would dine! It was very good! And Madame, of course?” with a low bow. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time. ‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. I am dreadfully sad. “I may not see the Widgetts for some little time, father,” she said. “I wish he had,” she said. ” “And why shouldn’t you?” “I felt that sort of thing couldn’t go on.
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