"
"I wish I dared ask you some questions," I said.
"Oh, but you mustn't!" she broke out, with a quick intuition of
what I meant.
"Why mustn't?" Tasked.
"Oh, because--because----" she returned. "I wouldn't like to fib
to you, and I wouldn't like to tell you the truth--and it would
make me feel hot and uncomfortable----"
"What would?" I asked.
"You see, if I really cared for him, it would be different," she
said. "But I don't--and that's all."
"Lady Grizzle over again?" I ventured.
"Not altogether," she said, "you see she was perfectly mad about
somebody else--which really was hard lines for her, poor thing--
while I----"
"Oh, please go on!" I said, as she hesitated.
"Fyles," she said, with the ghost of a sigh, "this isn't day-
dreaming at all, and I'm going to give you another cup of tea and
change the subject."
"What would you prefer, then?" I asked. "No! No more chocolate
cake, thank you."
"Let's have a fairy story all of our own," she said.
"Well, you begin," I said.
"Once upon a time," she began, "there was a poor young man in New
York--an American, though of course he couldn't help that--and he
came over to England and discovered the home of his ancestors, and
he liked them, and they liked him--ever so much, you know--and he
found that the old place was destined to pass to strangers, and so
he worked and worked in a dark old office, and stayed up at night
working some more, and never accepted any invitations or took a
holiday except at week-ends to the family castle--until finally he
amassed an immense fortune.
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