‘Yes, for there were too many females for the vicomte to make me a dowry. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. ‘You’ve found her out?’ ‘Tell us at once,’ urged Miss Froxfield. Let alone a girl. " He rose for fear she might touch him again. And you think I would marry you?’ ‘Why not? I am unworthy, eh? Because I am a servant.
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