“Let’s not talk of him,” said Jack.  “Put him out of your mind for ever.  He has no place there, or in your life—­and no more have any of the incidents that led up to him.  You’ve had a very bad time of it, poor little girl, and now—­”

“Oh, I haven’t,” I exclaimed.  “I’ve been happier than ever before in my life.  That is—­I—­it was all so novel, and like a play—­”

“Well, now the play’s over,” Jack broke in, pitying my evident embarrassment.  “I wanted to ask you if you’d let me advise and perhaps help you.  We have been brother and sister, you know.  Nothing can take that away from us.”

“No,” said I, in a queer little voice.  “Nothing can.”

“You want to go to England, I know,” he went on.  “And—­if you’ll forgive my taking liberties, you haven’t much money in hand, you’ve almost told me.  I suppose you haven’t changed your mind about your relations in Paris?  You wouldn’t like to go back to them, or write, and tell them firmly that you won’t marry the person they seem to have set their hearts on for you?  That you’ve made your own choice, and intend to abide by it; but that if they’ll be sensible and receive you, you’re willing to stop with them until—­until the man in England—­”

“What man in England?” I cut him short, in utter bewilderment.

“Why, the—­er—­you didn’t tell me his name, of course, but that rich chap you expected to meet when you got over to England.  Don’t you think it would be better if he came to you at your cousins’, if they—­”

“There isn’t any ’rich chap’,” I exclaimed.  “I don’t know what you mean—­oh, yes, I do, too.  I did speak about someone who was very rich, and would be kind to me.  I rather think—­I remember now—­I guessed you imagined it was a man; but that seemed the greatest joke, so I didn’t try to undeceive you.  Fancy your believing that, all this time, though, and thinking about it!”

“I’ve thought of it on an average once every three minutes,” said Jack.

“You’re chaffing now, of course.  Why, the person I hoped might be kind to me in England is an old lady—­oh, but such a funny old lady!—­who wanted me to be her companion, and said, no matter when I came, if it were years from now, I must let her know, for she would like to have me with her to help chase away a dragon of a maid she’s afraid of.  I met her only once, in the train the night before I arrived at Cannes; but she and I got to be the greatest friends, and her bulldog, Beau—.”

“Her bulldog, Beau!”

“A perfect lamb, though he looks like a cross between a crocodile and a gnome.  The old lady’s name is Miss Paget—­”

“My aunt!”