The Reverberator

s et de Cheltenham. Delia and Francie had established their father in the old quarters; they expected to finish the winter in Paris, but had not t

d to invent amusements for him; took him to see the great markets, the sewers and the Bank of France, and put him, with the lushest disinterestedness, in the way of acquiring a beautiful pair of horses, which Mr. Dosson, little as he resembles a sporting character, found it a great resource, on fine afternoons, to drive

aimless discussion. On leaving Mme. de Brecourt Francie’s lover had written to Delia that he desired half an hour’s private conversation with her father on the morrow at half-past eleven; his impatience fo

sofa and moving nothing but his head, and that very little, toward his interlocutor. Gas

ir — what d

for a living? Ho

some property left me by my dear mother. Second a legacy from my poor brother — he had inherited a small fortune from an old relation of ours w

at war?” aske

Franco–

Dosson almost laughed. “W

ke me a decent allowance; and some

ngs over. “Why, you seem to have fixed

ivacity by our young man; he felt the next moment that he had said somet

e any trouble about that. An

spoken to

to the person

rthodox to break gro

just a little dryly stated. There was an element of reproach in this and Gaston was mystifi

e you after you’ve exposed yourself

es me personally, but what I’m afraid of is that she may consider she knows too litt

d Mr. Dosson. “Don’t you believe that. Delia has m

or yourself. My father and sisters will do themselves the honour to wait upon you,”

y returned. “Well now, let’s see,” the good gentleman sociall

rom depths. “Have YOU any

ed. “It doesn’t seem as if I required anything, I’m l

s Francie to support me

le to which she’s accustomed?” And his friend tur

anything. That is if she does s

and even me a little,” it occu

revent that,” the

Dosson continued to follow the subject as at the same r

here — that’s a great tie. I’m not without hope that it may — with t

s concerned. Take some lunch?” Mr.

an adjoining room — the young man stopped his companion. “I can’t tell you how kind I think it — the way you trea

wouldn’t be any good. And since we do like you there ain’t any call for them either. I trust my daughters; if I di

!” Gaston deli

the door, but paused a mome

as, but you ma

eman here last year — I’d

d. “A gentlema

. A very fine man. I thought h

ston Probert murmur

e missed a customary dish from the board, but recognised the next moment his usual designation of his daughters. These young ladies presently came in, but Francie looked away from the suitor for her hand. The suggestion just droppe

rse she could draw back; upon which as Francie repeated the expression with her so

marry

s sister. You can tell him it’s h

are,” said Fr

weight. “Is that the way you

t know. He could

I guess I’d have said ‘Oh well, if yo

it WAS you,”

. Prober

u were the on

hinking of Mr. Flack?” her

not m

what’s th

place it is and what’s due and what ain’t

bute. “Why how can you say, when that

way; it will never com

you mean

a few weeks. I’ll be

ometh

harm,” Francie sighed with t

t on purpose!” Delia declared. “ARE you think

Francie answered in one

are you

that he and his father were great friends: the word seemed to her odd in that application. She knew he saw that gentleman and the types of high fashion, as she supposed, Mr. Probert’s daughters, very often, and she therefore took for granted that they knew he saw her. But the most he had done was to say they would come and see her like a shot if once they should believe they could trust her. She had wanted to know what he meant by their trusting her, and he had explained that it would seem to them too good to be true — that she should be kind to HIM: something exactly of that sort was what they dreamed of for him. But they had dreamed before and been disappointed and were now on their guard. From the moment they should feel they were on solid ground they would join hands and dance round her. Francie’s answer to this ingenuity was that she didn’t know what he was talking about, and he indulged in no attempt on that occasion to render his meaning more clear; the consequence of which was that he felt he bore as yet with an insufficient mass, he cut, to be plain, a poor figure. His uneasiness had not passed away, for many things in truth were dark to him. He couldn’t see his father fraternising with Mr. Dosson, he couldn’t see Margaret a