it were confidentially, to them, while his friends craned their necks to
hear what he said: "If I were you I'd prepare him. He's beaten as sure
as the sun shines."

Junia was tempted to say what was in her mind, but her sister Sibyl, who
resented Barouche's patronage, said:

"There's an old adage about the slip 'twixt the cup and the lip, Monsieur
Barouche. He's young, and he's got a better policy than yours."

"And he's unmarried, eh!" Barouche remarked. "He's unmarried, and I
suppose that matters!" There was an undercurrent of meaning in his voice
which did not escape Junia.

"And Monsieur Barouche is also unmarried," she remarked. "So you're even
there."

"Not quite even. I'm a widower. The women don't work for me as they
work for him."

"I don't understand," remarked Junia. "The women can't all marry him."

"There are a lot of things that can't be understood by just blinking the
eyes, but there's romance in the fight of an unmarried man, and women
like romance even if it's some one else's. There's sensation in it."

Barouche looked to where Carnac was slowly coming down the centre of the
hall. Women were waving handkerchiefs and throwing kisses towards him.
One little girl was pushed in front of him, and she reached out a hand in
which was a wild rose.