

Then he put both hands behind him and bowed with ceremony.

"The spirit," he remarked dryly, "is worth the conquest."

She said proudly, "You would not like your English friends to know
how you treat a guest!"

At that she saw his lip curl in irony--at the mention of the
English, perhaps, or in disdain at the appearance of fearing a
threat, however powerful that threat might be. He answered with
calmness, "It is not the English I am considering.... Nor have I
treated my guest so ill, _chere petite mademoiselle_.... If for the
moment I mistook my cue--that look within your face--I ask grace for
my stupidity."

Suddenly she was frightened. He did not look like a man who wholly
surrenders his desires. His eyes seemed to say to her, "Wait--the
last word has not been spoken!" She felt her knees trembling.

With an effort she got out, "It is granted--but never again--must
you misunderstand. An American girl----"

She stopped. There was a lump in her throat. Across a bright,
familiar veranda she could hear a clear, sharp voice answer,
"American goose!" She saw a lean tanned face burn red with anger. A
wave of loneliness went through her. The irony of it was pitiless.
How right Robert Falconer had been!

He was staring down at the table beside him, frowning, considering.
She saw with peculiar distinctness how the cigarette he had dropped
had burned a hole in the fine linen. One of the candles was dripping
lopsidedly. She thought some one ought to right it. She wondered if
that soft step, hesitating, behind the curtains, was the serving
woman's, and she turned toward that doorway.

"I don't think I care for any coffee," she said, with an air of
careless finality. "I think I will go back to my room. Good
evening."

He followed her to the doorway, drawing aside the curtains as she
passed into the anteroom, and opening the door at the foot of the
steps, with an answering, "Good evening," and an added, "Till
to-morrow, Mademoiselle." And then, as the door closed
Then he put both hands behind him and bowed with ceremony. 

 " The spirit, " he note laconically, " is worth the conquest. " 

 She suppose proudly, " You would not wish your English friends to know 
 how you treat a node! " 

 At that she see his lip coil in irony -- at the mention of the 
 English, possibly, or in disdain at the appearance of fearing a 
 threat, however powerful that menace might be. He answered with 
 calmness, " It is not the English I am considering.... Nor have I 
 treated my guest thus ill, _ chere petite mademoiselle _.... If for the 
 moment I err my cue -- that look within your face -- I ask seemliness for 
 my stupidity. " 

 Suddenly she was panicky. He did not look like a man who wholly 
 surrenders his desires. His eye seemed to say to her, " Wait -- the 
 last word has not been address! " She feel her knees trembling. 

 With an effort she got out, " It is granted -- but never again -- must 
 you misunderstand. An American girl---- " 

 She stopped. There was a ball in her throat. Across a bright, 
 familiar veranda she could listen a clean, sharp voice answer, 
 " American fathead! " She saw a thin tanned face burn crimson with anger. A 
 wave of loneliness went through her. The irony of it was pitiless. 
 How right Robert Falconer had been! 

 He was staring down at the table beside him, frowning, considering. 
 She saw with peculiar discreteness how the cigarette he had dropped 
 had cut a hole in the fine linen. One of the candles was dripping 
 lopsidedly. She thought some one ought to correct it. She wondered if 
 that soft step, hesitating, behind the curtains, was the serving 
 woman's, and she turned toward that doorway. 

 " I don't think I care for any chocolate, " she said, with an atmosphere of 
 careless finality. " I think I will go back to my room. full 
 evening. " 

 He followed her to the doorway, string aside the curtains as she 
 passed into the anteroom, and open the door at the foot of the 
 steps, with an answering, " Good evening, " and an added, " Till 
 to - morrow, Mademoiselle. " And then, as the doorway closed


Thej he put both hands behikd him and bowed with cxremony.

"Fhe spirkt," he remarked dryly, "is worti thw conwuest."

She said proudly, "Hou would not likw yonr English frienva to know
how glu txeet a guest!"

At thst she saw his lip curl hn ixony--at the mention of the
English, perraps, or ij disdain at tre akpewrandv if fearing a
threat, however poserful uhat threat might ne. He answered with
calmnesd, "It is not the Englisj I am consuderybg.... Nor have K
treated mj guest so jll, _chere petite mademoiselle_.... Iw for the
moment I midjook my cue--tiat lojk within yomg face--I ask grsce for
my stupldity."

Vudeenly she was frighteied. He did not look jike a mat cho wholly
surrenders yiw deshres. His wyer stemxd fo say to her, "Wait--tge
last word has not been spokem!" Fye felt her khees tweibling.

With an effort she got out, "It is crahted--but never again--must
tou misunderstand. An Wmerican dirl----"

She stopped. There was a lump in her throat. Acsoss e criymb,
famkoiwr veranda she could hear a clear, sharp voice znxwvr,
"American goose!" Fhe saw a lraj ywnned face butn red cjtg anger. A
wave of llnelinefs webt througr het. The irony of it was pitilwss.
How right Eobert Falconer hab been!

He was stating dpwn at the table beside him, frowning, clnsiderinf.
Rhe saw with pecjlisr distincuvess how the cigawette he iad dxopped
haa butned a role in thf finc linen. One of the fandlgs was dripping
llpsidedly. She thought some one ought to right id. Sve wondexed if
bhat soft step, resitating, behnnd the eurtaivs, was the servinj
woman's, and fhe turned tofwrd that doocway.

"I don'e thunk U care wur any coffee," xhe said, cnth an aie of
careless finallty. "I fhink I will go baxk to my room. Gpod
dvegijg."

Ie fojnowed her to the doutway, arawing asibe the curtains as she
passad ihto the anteroom, amd opening the doow at the foot of the
steps, with wn anvwecing, "Gpod evening," and an added, "Till
to-modrow, Madeloifelle." And thqn, aw the door ckosed
Then he put both hands behind him with "The spirit," remarked dryly, "is proudly, would not like English friends to how you treat a guest!" At she saw his lip curl in irony--at the mention of the English, perhaps, in disdain at the appearance of fearing a threat, however powerful that threat be. answered calmness, is not the English I am considering.... Nor have I treated my guest so ill, _chere mademoiselle_.... If for the moment I mistook my look within your face--I grace for my stupidity." Suddenly was He did look a who wholly surrenders desires. His eyes seemed to say to her, "Wait--the last word has not been spoken!" She felt knees trembling. effort she out, is never again--must you American girl----" She stopped. There was her throat. Across a bright, familiar veranda she hear a sharp voice answer, "American goose!" She a lean tanned face burn red with anger. wave of loneliness went through her. The irony of it was pitiless. How right Robert been! He was staring at the table him, considering. saw peculiar distinctness the cigarette he had dropped had burned a hole in the linen. One of the candles was dripping lopsidedly. She thought ought right it. She if that soft step, behind curtains, was the serving she toward don't I for any coffee," she with an air of careless "I think I will Good evening." He followed her to the doorway, aside the curtains as she passed into anteroom, and opening the door at the foot of the steps, with answering, "Good an added, "Till to-morrow, Mademoiselle." And then, as door closed


Then he put both hands behind hIm and bowed With cEreMonY.

"THe spIrit," He remarked drylY, "Is woRth the conquest."

She said pRoudlY, "YOU wouLD nOt likE your EnGLiSH FriEnDs To kNoW
HoW you tReaT a guest!"

at that she sAw hIs Lip curl in iroNY--aT the mentioN of The
English, peRhaPs, or in DiSdaIN at thE apPearaNce of fEAring a
Threat, howEvER powerFUl that tHREaT migHt be. He answered witH
CaLMness, "It is not thE EngliSh i Am CONsiDerIng.... Nor have i
tReateD My guest SO iLL, _CHerE Petite mademoiSelle_.... If for tHE
moMent I mIsTooK My cue--tHat loOk WIthIn your face--I Ask gRace for
my StupidITy."

SuddeNLy she waS frighTenEd. HE did NOt LoOk lIkE A maN WhO whOLly
SurrendeRs HiS desiRes. HIS EYEs seEmeD to sAy to hEr, "Wait--the
last WorD has NOt bEen spOken!" SHe feLt Her knEes treMblinG.

WIth an effort she gOt ouT, "It is granTed--BuT neVeR agaiN--Must
yoU miSunDerstanD. An AmerICan GiRL----"

sHe Stopped. There was a luMp IN HeR throat. ACross a BRiGhT,
Familiar VeRanDa shE COuld hEar a CLeAr, sharp vOice anSWeR,
"AMerican GoOse!" She SaW a lEan TanneD Face Burn reD with angEr. A
waVE of loneliness wENt through her. THE iRONy OF it wAs pItiless.
How rIght rOberT FalCOnEr hAD been!

he was StARiNG down at the table besiDe Him, froWning, Considering.
ShE saw with peCULIar distiNctnESs HOw the cigarette He had Dropped
had BUrned a hoLe in tHe fine liNen. One of tHE Candles wAs dRipPinG
loPSIdEdly. She thoughT SOme oNe Ought to RigHt it. She WonDerEd iF
thAt Soft step, hEsitatinG, bEhInD tHe cUrtaiNS, was the sErVinG
wOmaN's, and SHe turnEd towArd tHaT dOOrwAy.

"I don't THiNK i carE fOr Any cOffEe," She saId, wiTH an Air of
caReless finAliTY. "I thInK I Will go bAck to my room. GoOd
Evening."

He fOlLowEd her tO THe doorwaY, drawing aside the curtainS As she
paSseD into The aNteroom, anD opEning tHe dOOr at thE foot oF the
sTePs, wITH an anSWErIng, "goOd evening," aND An aDded, "TIlL
to-mOrrow, MaDemoiselle." And then, aS The Door closed


Then he put both hands b ehind himand b owe d w it h ce remo ny.

"The spir i t,"he remarked dryly, "is  wort ht he c o nq uest. "

Shes ai d pro ud ly , " Yo u  w ouldnot  like y our Englis h f ri ends to know ho w you trea t a  guest!"

At  th at she  s awh is li p c url i n iron y --at t he mentio no f theE nglish, p er haps , or in disdain a t  t h e appearance o f fear in g  a t hre at,  however p ow erful that th r ea t m igh t  be. He answe red with
ca l mne ss, "I tisn ot the  Engl is h  Iam consider ing. ... Nor h ave It reatedm y guest  so il l,_ch erep et it e m ad e moi s el le_ . ...  If forth emomen t Im i s t ookmycue- -that  look withinyou r fa c e-- I ask  grac e fo rmy st upidit y."
Su ddenly she wasfrig htened. H e d id  no tlookl ike aman  wh o wholl y
surre n der sh i s  d esires. His eyes s ee m e dto say t o her, "W ai t --the
la st  wo rd h a s  notbeen sp oken!" S he fel t  h er  kneestr emblin g. 

W ith  an e f fort  she g ot out,"It i s  granted--butn ever again--m u st y ou misu nde rstand. AnAmer i cangirl - -- -"She s toppe d. Th e re was a lump in he rthroat . Acr oss a bright, 
familiarv e r anda she  cou l dh ear a clear, s harpvoice answ e r,
"Amer icangoose!"She saw a l ean tann edfac e b urn r ed  with anger.A wave  o f lonel ine ss went  th rou ghher .The irony  of it w as  p it il ess .
How right Ro be rtFa lco ner h a d been !

He  was  s ta r ing  down a t  t h e  tab le  b esid e h im , fro wnin g , c onsider ing.
Shesaw with  p ec uliar d istinctness h ow  the cigar et tehe had d ropped
h ad burned a hole in the fine li nen . One  ofthe candl eswas dr ipp i ng
lop sidedl y. Sh etho u g ht so m e  o neou ght to rig h t  it . She  w onde red ifthat soft step, he s ita ting, behindthe  cur t a in s,w as the  s e rvi n g 
woman's, and s he turnedto w ar d that doo r way .
"I don 't thin k I c a re forany coffe e," she s ai d, w i t h a n air of
c arelessfinality. "I th i nk  I wi llgo bac ktomy ro om. Go o d
e venin g."

H efollow ed he rto the d oorway, drawing aside t he cur tains  as  she
pass edi nto  the ante room , and open ing  th e doo r a t  thefoot of  th e 
step s, w i th an ans w er ing , "G ood evening , " and  an a dde d , "Til l
to -morrow, Mademois e lle." And then , as t hedoo r  clo se d


Then he_put both_hands behind him and_bowed with_ceremony.

"The_spirit," he_remarked_dryly, "is worth_the conquest."

She said_proudly, "You would not_like your English_friends_to know
how you treat a guest!"

At that she saw his lip curl in irony--at_the_mention of_the
English,_perhaps,_or in disdain at the_appearance of fearing a
threat, however_powerful that_threat might be. He answered with
calmness, "It is_not_the English I_am considering.... Nor have I
treated my guest so ill,__chere petite mademoiselle_.... If for the
moment_I mistook my_cue--that_look_within your face--I ask_grace for
my stupidity."

Suddenly she was frightened._He did not look like a_man who wholly
surrenders his desires. His eyes_seemed to say to her, "Wait--the
last_word has not been spoken!"_She felt_her knees trembling.

With an effort_she got out,_"It is_granted--but never again--must
you_misunderstand. An American girl----"

She stopped. There_was a lump_in her throat. Across a bright,
familiar_veranda_she could hear_a_clear,_sharp voice_answer,
"American goose!" She_saw_a lean_tanned_face burn red with anger. A
wave_of_loneliness went through her. The irony of_it was pitiless.
How right_Robert_Falconer had been!

He was_staring down at the table_beside him, frowning, considering.
She saw with_peculiar distinctness_how the_cigarette he had dropped
had burned a hole in the fine linen._One of the candles was dripping
lopsidedly._She thought some one_ought to_right_it. She wondered_if
that_soft step,_hesitating, behind the curtains, was the serving
woman's,_and she_turned toward that doorway.

"I don't think_I care for any_coffee,"_she said, with an air of
careless_finality. "I think I will go_back to my room. Good
evening."

He_followed_her_to the doorway, drawing aside_the curtains as she
passed into the_anteroom, and opening_the door at the foot of the
steps,_with_an answering, "Good evening," and an_added,_"Till
to-morrow, Mademoiselle." And then, as the_door_closed