"Indeed, from La Pauline, where I have been paying a delightful visit.

Madame de Clericy--so kind--and Mademoiselle Lucille--" He twisted up the unsuccessful side of his mustache, and gave a quick little sigh.

Then he remembered his scarf, and attended to the horseshoe pin that adorned it.
"You know my father," he said, suddenly, "the--er--Baron Giraud.

He has been more fortunate than myself in making your acquaintance earlier." I bowed and said what was necessary.
"A kind man--a dear man," said the Baron's son.

"But no sportsman.
Figure to yourself--he fears an open window." He laughed and shrugged his little shoulders.
"I dare say many Englishmen would not understand him." "I am not of those," replied I."I understand him and appreciate his many able qualities." From which it will be seen that I can lie as well as any man.
"The poor dear has been called to Paris, on his affairs.