be making so untimely a visit it is necessary to go back several hours to a
previous visit here that the young American had already made on this
momentous evening.

After leaving the Ansonia banquet at about nine o'clock in the singular
manner noted by the big doorkeeper, Kittredge, in accordance with his
promise to Alice, had driven directly to the Rue du Cloitre Notre-Dame, and
at twenty minutes past nine by the clock in the Tavern of the Three Wise
Men he had drawn up at the house where the Bonnetons lived. Five minutes
later the young man was seated in the sacristan's little _salon_ assuring
Alice that he didn't mind the rain, that the banquet was a bore, anyhow,
and that he hoped she was now going to prove herself a sensible and
reasonable little girl.

[Illustration: "'Ask Beau Cocono,' he called back."]

Alice welcomed her lover eagerly. She had been anxious about him, she did
not know why, and when the storm came she had been more anxious. But now
she was reassured and--and happy. Her mantling color, her heaving bosom,
and the fond, wistful lights in her dark eyes told how very happy she was.
And how proud! After all he trusted her, it must be so! he had left his
friends, left this fine banquet and, in spite of the pain she had given
him, in spite of the bad night, he had come to her here in her humble home.

And it would have straightway been the love scene all over again, for Alice
had never seemed so adorable, but for the sudden and ominous entrance of
Mother Bonneton. She eyed the visitor with frank unfriendliness and,
without mincing her words, proceeded to tell him certain things, notably
that his attentions to Alice must cease and that his visits here would
henceforth be unwelcome.