elbow, joining in the conversation, and asking a question or two
about Madame Faragon. There was, perhaps, something of the guile of
the serpent joined to her dove-like softness. She asked questions
and listened to answers--not that in her present state of mind she
could bring herself to take a deep interest in the affairs of Madame
Faragon's hotel, but because it suited her that there should be some
subject of easy conversation between her and George. It was
absolutely necessary now that George should be nothing more to her
than a cousin and an acquaintance; but it was well that he should be
that and not an enemy. It would be well too that he should know,
that he should think that he knew, that she was disturbed by no
remembrance of those words which had once passed between them. At
last she trusted herself to a remark which perhaps she would not
have made had the serpent's guile been more perfect of its kind.

'Surely you must get a wife, George, as soon as the house is your
own.'

'Of course he will get a wife,' said the father.

'I hope he will get a good one,' said Madame Voss after a short
pause--which, however, had been long enough to make her feel it
necessary to say something.

George said never a word, but lifted his glass and finished his
wine. Marie at once perceived that the subject was one on which she
must not venture to touch again. Indeed, she saw farther than that,
and became aware that it would be inexpedient for her to fall into
any special or minute conversation with her cousin during his short
stay at Granpere.