daughter.

"Daisy," he said quietly, "I think it will be best for this lady to see
Madame Poulain with me alone." And as his daughter showed no sign of having
understood, he said again, with a touch of severity in his voice: "Daisy, I
desire you to go upstairs."

"You'll bring Mrs. Dampier up again, father?"

He hesitated--and then he said, "Yes, should she wish it, I will do so."

And Daisy Burton turned away, up the stairs again, very reluctantly. Her
indulgent father was not given to interfere with even the most casual of
her friendships, and she already felt as if this attractive young
Englishwoman was to be her friend.

Madame Poulain came slowly across the courtyard, and the Senator was struck
by her look of ill-health, of languor. Clearly the worthy woman was
overtaxing her strength. It was foolish of the Poulains not to have more
help in, but French people were like that!

Senator Burton knew that these good folks were trying to amass as large a
dowry as possible for their adored only child. Virginie was now of
marriageable age, and the Poulains had already selected in their own minds
the man they wished to see their son-in-law. He was owner of an hotel at
Chantilly, and as he was young, healthy, and reputed kind and
good-tempered, he had the right to expect a good dowry with his future
wife. The fact that this was an Exhibition Year was a great stroke of luck
for the Poulains. It almost certainly meant that their beloved Virginie
would soon be settled close to them in charming salubrious Chantilly....