He turned to her and smiled his blandest smile.

"Under the circumstances," he said, "the best I could expect."

Still smiling, he smoothed his coat and squared his shoulders.

"Our little melodrama, my lady, is drawing to its close."




XI


The sun had finally broken through the clouds, and already its rays were
slanting into the room, falling softly on the dusty furniture, and
making the shadows of the vines outside dance fitfully on the wall by
the fire; and the shadows of the elms were growing long and straight
over the rain soaked leaves, and the rank, damp grass of our lawn. It
was the dull, gentle sunshine of an autumn afternoon, soft and kindly,
and yet a little bleak.

"Yes," said my father, "it is nearly over. It turns into a simple matter,
after all. I wonder, Mademoiselle, will you be sorry? Will you ever
recall our weeks on the high-road? I shall, I think. And the Inn in
Britanny, with Brutus up the road, and Ned Aiken swearing at the post
boys. At least we were living life. And the _Eclipse_--I told you they
would never beat us on a windward tack. I told you, Mademoiselle, the
majority of mankind were very simple people."