"Oh, it is not because I am young," she said, in a low voice, "for I am
old--indeed, I am very old. It is because I cannot love you, and never
can love you in the one great way; and I will not marry without love. My
heart is fixed on that. When I marry, it will be when I love a man so
much that I cannot live without him. If he is so poor that each meal is
a miracle, it will make no difference. Oh, can't you see, can't you
feel, what I mean, Monsieur--you who are so wise and learned, and know
the world so well?"

"Wise and learned!" he said, a little roughly, for his voice was husky
with emotion. "'Pon honour, I think I am a fool! A bewildered fool,
that knows no more of woman than my cook knows Sanscrit. Faith, a
hundred times less! For Mary Flynn's got an eye to see, and, without
telling, she knew I had a mind set on you. But Mary Flynn thought more
than that, for she has an idea that you've a mind set on some one,
Rosalie. She thought it might be me."

"A woman is not so easily read as a man," she replied, half smiling, but
with her eyes turned to the street. A few people were gathering in front
of the house--she wondered why.

"There is some one else--that is it, Rosalie. There is some one else.
You shall tell me who it is. You shall--"

He stopped short, for there was a loud knocking at the shop-door, and the
voice of M. Evanturel calling: "Rosalie! Rosalie! Rosalie! Ah, come
quickly--ah, my Rosalie!"

Without a look at the Seigneur, Rosalie rushed into the shop and opened
the front door. Her father was deathly pale, and was trembling