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Not in a hurry to get home, he dined in town at the Connoisseurs. While eating a pear it suddenly occurred to him that, if he had not gone down to Robin Hill, the boy might not have so decided. He remembered the expression on his face while his mother was refusing the hand he had held out. A strange, an awkward thought! Had Fleur cooked her own goose by trying to make too sure?
He had never been lost in a dream himself there was nothing to be had out of it; and where she got it from he did not know! Certainly not from Annette! And yet Annette, as a young girl, when he was hanging about her, had once had a flowery look. Well, she had lost it now! Fleur rose from her chair-swiftly, restlessly; and flung herself down at a writing-table.
Oh! She must. She had said "Au revoir!" Not good-bye! What luck that she had dropped her handkerchief. He would never have known her but for that. And the more he thought of that handkerchief, the more amazing his luck seemed. Fleur! It certainly rhymed with her! Rhythm thronged his head; words jostled to be joined together; he was on the verge of a poem.
Jon took his hand from under her arm; his sensation was so sharp and so confused. Italy with his mother! A fortnight ago it would have been perfection; now it filled him with dismay; he felt that the sudden suggestion had to do with Fleur. He stammered out: "Oh! yes; only I don't know. Ought I now I've just begun? I'd like to think it over."
Do you still think it a happy release?" Val's shrewd eyes narrowed to grey pin-points between their dark lashes. "Fleur wouldn't have suited him a bit. She's not bred right." "Poor little Fleur!" sighed Holly. Ah! it was strange this marriage! The young man, Mont, had caught her on the rebound, of course, in the reckless mood of one whose ship has just gone down.
He was despising the vehemence of his own feelings after all these years. Ghosts! And yet as one grew old was there anything but what was ghost-like left? Yes, there was Fleur! He fixed his eyes on the entrance. She was due; but she would keep him waiting, of course!
The thought of that man was almost making him want her, and this was a revelation of their relationship, startling to one little given to introspective philosophy. Without saying another word he went out and up to the picture-gallery. This came of marrying a Frenchwoman! And yet, without her there would have been no Fleur! She had served her purpose. 'She's right, he thought; 'I can do nothing.
And then, again, what was the meaning of the language used by the implacable enemy of his father, that uncouth and ferocious warrior of the Fleur de lis, not only on the occasion of the execution of Halloway, but afterwards to his brother, during his short captivity; and, subsequently, when, disguised as a black, he penetrated, with the band of Ponteac, into the fort, and aimed his murderous weapon at his father's head.
Miss Panney rose from her chair, and gazed earnestly at Mrs. Tolbridge. "What cook?" she asked, in her deepest tones. "Jane La Fleur," was the reply; "the woman you urged me to write to. I sent the letter that afternoon. Yesterday she came to see me, and I engaged her. And while we were at breakfast this morning, she arrived with her boxes, and went to work." "And she cooked that meal?
"It's their sense of property," he said, "which makes people chain things. The last generation thought of nothing but property; and that's why there was the War." "Oh!" said Fleur, "I never thought of that. Your people and mine quarrelled about property. And anyway we've all got it at least, I suppose your people have." "Oh! yes, luckily; I don't suppose I shall be any good at making money."
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