"Don't think I care a straw about not seeing Mr. Vernon again," said
Betty hastily. "It's not that."

"Of course not," said the aunt sympathetically.

"No,--but Father was so hateful--you've no idea. If I'd--if I'd run
away and got married secretly he couldn't have made more fuss."

"You're a little harsh--just a little. Of course you and I know
exactly how it was, but remember how it looked to him. Why, it
couldn't have looked worse if you really _had_ been arranging an
elopement."

"He _hadn't_ got his arm around me," insisted Betty; "it was somewhere
right away in the background. He was holding himself up with it."

"Don't I tell you I understand all that perfectly? What I want to
understand is how you feel about Paris. Are you absolutely off the
idea?"

"I couldn't go if I wasn't."

"I wonder what you think Paris is like," mused the aunt. "I suppose
you think it's all one wild razzle-dazzle--one delirious round of--of
museums and picture galleries."

"No, I don't," said Betty rather shortly.

"If you went you'd have to work."