babies, or I might have stayed to look after them, but she has lots of
money and 'position to keep up,' and so forth."

"I see her," said Stefan. "Obviously, she takes after the _other_
parent. You are alone then. Next question--"

"Oh, isn't it my turn again?" Mary interposed, smilingly.

"It is, but I ask you to waive it. You see, questions about _me_ are
so comparatively trivial. What sort of work do you do?"

"Well, I write a little," she replied, "and I've been a governess and a
companion. But I'm really a victim of the English method of educating
girls. That's my chief profession--being a monument to its inefficiency,"
and she laughed, low and bell-like.

"Tell me about that--I've never lived in England," he questioned, with
eager interest. ("And oh, Pan and Apollo, her voice!" he thought.)

"Well," she continued, "they bring us up so nicely that we can't do
anything--except _be_ nice. I was brought up in a cathedral town,
right in the Close, and my dear old Dad, who was a doctor, attended the
Bishop, the Dean, and all the Chapter. Mother would not let us go to
boarding-school, for fear of 'influences'--so we had governesses at home,
who taught us nothing we didn't choose to learn. My sister Isobel married
'well,' as they say, while I was still in the schoolroom. Her husband
belongs to the county--"

"What's that?" interrupted Stefan.