For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. “Forgive me,” he said, “but I want to hear it from your sister. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. Their conversation hung. When she had finished the first tale, there was a sense of disappointment. ‘And, if this was not enough,’ went on the lady furiously, ‘you dare to say I am French.
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