"Miss Earle, have I offended you?"

"Did you mean to give offence?" she asked.

"No, certainly, I did not."

"Then why should you think you had offended me?"

"Well, I don't know, I--" he stammered.

Miss Earle looked at him with such clear, innocent, and unwavering eyes that the young man felt that he could neither apologise nor make an explanation.

"I'm afraid," he said, "that I am encroaching on your time."

"Yes, I think you are: that is, if you intend to live up to your contract, and let me live up to mine. You have no idea how much more interesting this book is than you are."

"Why, you are not a bit flattering, Miss Earle, are you?"

"No, I don't think I am. Do you try to be?"

"I'm afraid that in my lifetime I have tried to be, but I a.s.sure you, Miss Earle, that I don't try to be flattering, or try to be anything but what I really am when I am in your company. To tell the truth, I am too much afraid of you."

Miss Earle smiled and went on with her reading, while Morris went once more back into the smoking-room.

"Now then," said George Morris, when lunch was over, "which is it to be?

The luxurious languor of the steamer chair or the energetic exercise of the deck? Take your choice."

"Well," answered the young lady, "as I have been enjoying the luxurious languor all the forenoon, I prefer the energetic exercise, if it is agreeable to you, for a while, at least."

"It is very agreeable to me. I am all energy this afternoon. In fact, now that you have consented to allow me to talk with you, I feel as if I were imbued with a new life."

"Dear me," said she, "and all because of the privilege of talking to me?"

"All."

"How nice that is. You are sure that it is not the effect of the sea air?"

"Quite certain. I had the sea air this forenoon, you know."

"Oh, yes, I had forgotten that."

"Well, which side of the deck then?"

"Oh, which ever is the least popular side. I dislike a crowd."

"I think, Miss Earle, that we will have this side pretty much to ourselves. The madd'ing crowd seems to have a preference for the sunny part of the ship. Now, then, for the siege of London. Who besieged it?"

"A lady."

"Did she succeed?"

"She did."

"Well, I am very glad to hear it, indeed. What was she besieging it for?"

"For social position, I presume.

"Then, as we say out West, I suppose she had a pretty hard row to hoe?"

"Yes, she had."

"Well, I never can get at the story by cross-questioning. Now, supposing that you tell it to me."

"I think that you had better take the book and read it. I am not a good story-teller."

"Why, I thought we Americans were considered excellent story-tellers.'

"We Americans?"

"Oh, I remember now, you do not lay claim to being an American. You are English, I think you said?"

"I said nothing of the kind. I merely said I lay no claims to being an American."

"Yes, that was it."

"Well, you will be pleased to know that this lady in the siege of London was an American. You seem so anxious to establish a person's nationality that I am glad to be able to tell you at the very first that she was an American, and, what is more, seemed to be a Western American."

"Seemed? Oh, there we get into uncertainties again. If I like to know whether persons are Americans or not, it naturally follows that I am anxious to know whether they were Western or Eastern Americans. Aren't you sure she was a Westerner?"

"The story, unfortunately, leaves that a little vague, so if it displeases you I shall be glad to stop the telling of it."

"Oh no, don't do that. I am quite satisfied to take her as an American citizen; whether she is East or West, or North or South, does not make the slightest difference to me. Please go on with the story."

"Well, the other characters, I am happy to be able to say, are not at all indefinite in the matter of nationality. One is an Englishman; he is even more than that, he is an English n.o.bleman. The other is an American. Then there is the English n.o.bleman's mother, who, of course, is an English woman; and the American's sister, married to an Englishman, and she, of course, is English-American. Does that satisfy you?"

"Perfectly. Go on."

"It seems that the besieger, the heroine of the story if you may call her so, had a past."

"Has not everybody had a past?"

"Oh no. This past is known to the American and is unknown to the English n.o.bleman."

"Ah, I see; and the American is in love with her in spite of her past?"

"Not in Mr. James's story."

"Oh, I beg pardon. Well, go on; I shall not interrupt again."

"It is the English n.o.bleman who is in love with her in spite of his absence of knowledge about her past. The English n.o.bleman's mother is very much against the match. She tries to get the American to tell what the past of this woman is. The American refuses to do so. In fact, in Paris he has half promised the besieger not to say anything about her past. She is besieging London, and she wishes the American to remain neutral. But the n.o.bleman's mother at last gets the American to promise that he will tell her son what he knows of this woman's past. The American informs the woman what he has promised the n.o.bleman's mother to do, and at this moment the n.o.bleman enters the room. The besieger of London, feeling that her game is up, leaves them together. The American says to the n.o.bleman, who stands rather stiffly before him, 'If you wish to ask me any questions regarding the lady who has gone out I shall be happy to tell you.' Those are not the words of the book, but they are in substance what he said. The n.o.bleman looked at him for a moment with that hauteur which, we presume, belongs to n.o.blemen, and said quietly, 'I wish to know nothing.' Now, that strikes me as a very dramatic point in the story."