Madame was so placid and easy-going--in her stout black silk dress, with her lace-work.

Monsieur de Clericy gave me his confidence so unreservedly--what could I do but lapse into virtue?
And I venture to think that many a blacker sheep than myself would have blanched in the midst of so pure a flock.
One evening Madame asked me to join the family circle in the drawing-room.

The room was very pretty and homelike--quite unlike our grim drawing-room at Hopton, where my father never willingly set foot since its rightful owner had passed elsewhere.

There were flowers in abundance--their scent filled the air--from the Var estate in Provence, which had been Madame's home and formed part of the _dot_ she brought into the diminishing Clericy coffers.

Two lamps illuminated the room rather dimly, and a pair of candles stood on the piano.
[Illustration: "YOU ARE SAD," SAID LUCILLE, WITH A LITTLE LAUGH, "WITH YOUR FACE IN YOUR HAND COMME CA."] Monsieur de Clericy played a game at bezique with Madame, who chuckled a good deal at her own mistakes with the cards, and then asked Lucille for some music.