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Gaston had explained, and he had still further to expound what he meant by the old game. The brand-newness of Charles Waterlow's game had already been a bewilderment to Mr. Probert. Francie remembered now she had forgotten it Margaret de Cliche's having told her she meant to come again. She hoped the marquise thought by this time that, on canvas at least, she looked a little more like a lady.
Then Mme. de Cliche's grace stiffened, taking on a shade that brought back Francie's sense that she was the individual, among all Gaston's belongings, who had pleased her least from the first. Mme. de Douves was superficially more formidable, but with her the second impression was comparatively comforting. It was just this second impression of the marquise that was not.
You might explain I'm only an American girl!" said Francie, whose being only an American girl didn't prevent her pretty head from holding itself now as high as Mme. de Cliche's. Mme. de Brecourt came back to her quickly, laying her hand on her arm. "You're very nervous you'd much better go home. I'll explain everything to them I'll make them understand. The carriage is here it had orders to wait."
"That's what she calls them. It seems very different from America. It's just like a beautiful story they have such strange feelings. But there are things you can see without being told." "What sort of things?" "Well, like Mme. de Cliche's " But Francie paused as if for a word. Her friend was prompt with assistance. "Do you mean her complications?" "Yes, and her husband's. She has terrible ones.
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