Tiens, do
you know your reputation in the Quarter? Of the inconstant, the most
inconstant,--utterly incorrigible and no more serious than a gnat on a
summer night. Poor Cécile!" Clifford looked so uncomfortable that she spoke more kindly. "I like you. You know that. Everybody does. You are a spoiled child here. Everything is permitted you and every one makes allowance, but every one
cannot be a victim to caprice." "Caprice!" he cried. "By Jove, if the girls of the Latin Quarter are not
capricious--"

"Never mind,--never mind about that! You must not sit in judgment--you of
all men. Why are you here to-night? Oh," she cried, "I will tell you why! Monsieur receives a little note; he sends a little answer; he dresses in
his conquering raiment--"

"I don't," said Clifford, very red. "You do, and it becomes you," she retorted with a faint smile. Then again,
very quietly, "I am in your power, but I know I am in the power of a
friend. I have come to acknowledge it to you here,--and it is because of
that that I am here to beg of you--a--a favour." Clifford opened his eyes, but said nothing. "I am in--great distress of mind. It is Monsieur Hastings." "Well?" said Clifford, in some astonishment. "I want to ask you," she continued in a low voice, "I want to ask you
to--to--in case you should speak of me before him,--not to say,--not to
say,--"

"I shall not speak of you to him," he said quietly. "Can--can you prevent others?" "I might if I was present. May I ask why?" "That is not fair," she murmured; "you know how--how he considers me,--as
he considers every woman. You know how different he is from you and the
rest. I have never seen a man,--such a man as Monsieur Hastings." He let his cigarette go out unnoticed. "I am almost afraid of him--afraid he should know--what we all are in the
Quarter. Oh, I do not wish him to know! I do not wish him to--to turn from
me--to cease from speaking to me as he does! You--you and the rest cannot
know what it has been to me. I could not believe him,--I could not believe
he was so good and--and noble. I do not wish him to know--so soon. He will
find out--sooner or later, he will find out for himself, and then he will
turn away from me. Why!" she cried passionately, "why should he turn from
me and not from _you_?" Clifford, much embarrassed, eyed his cigarette. The girl rose, very white. "He is your friend--you have a right to warn
him." "He is my friend," he said at length. They looked at each other in silence. Then she cried, "By all that I hold to me most sacred, you need not warn
him!" "I shall trust your word," he said pleasantly. V

The month passed quickly for Hastings, and left few definite impressions
after it. It did leave some, however. One was a painful impression of
meeting Mr. Bladen on the Boulevard des Capucines in company with a very
pronounced young person whose laugh dismayed him, and when at last he
escaped from the café where Mr. Bladen had hauled him to join them in a
_bock_ he felt as if the whole boulevard was looking at him, and judging
him by his company. Later, an instinctive conviction regarding the young
person with Mr. Bladen sent the hot blood into his cheek, and he returned
to the pension in such a miserable state of mind that Miss Byng was
alarmed and advised him to conquer his homesickness at once. Another impression was equally vivid. One Saturday morning, feeling
lonely, his wanderings about the city brought him to the Gare St. Lazare. It was early for breakfast, but he entered the Hôtel Terminus and took a
table near the window. As he wheeled about to give his order, a man
passing rapidly along the aisle collided with his head, and looking up to
receive the expected apology, he was met instead by a slap on the shoulder
and a hearty, "What the deuce are you doing here, old chap?" It was
Rowden, who seized him and told him to come along. So, mildly protesting,
he was ushered into a private dining-room where Clifford, rather red,
jumped up from the table and welcomed him with a startled air which was
softened by the unaffected glee of Rowden and the extreme courtesy of
Elliott. The latter presented him to three bewitching girls who welcomed
him so charmingly and seconded Rowden in his demand that Hastings should
make one of the party, that he consented at once. While Elliott briefly
outlined the projected excursion to La Roche, Hastings delightedly ate his
omelet, and returned the smiles of encouragement from Cécile and Colette
and Jacqueline. Meantime Clifford in a bland whisper was telling Rowden
what an ass he was. Poor Rowden looked miserable until Elliott, divining
how affairs were turning, frowned on Clifford and found a moment to let
Rowden know that they were all going to make the best of it. "You shut up," he observed to Clifford, "it's fate, and that settles it." "It's Rowden, and that settles it," murmured Clifford, concealing a grin. For after all he was not Hastings' wet nurse. So it came about that the
train which left the Gare St. Lazare at 9.15 a.m. stopped a moment in its
career towards Havre and deposited at the red-roofed station of La Roche a
merry party, armed with sunshades, trout-rods, and one cane, carried by
the non-combatant, Hastings. Then, when they had established their camp in
a grove of sycamores which bordered the little river Ept, Clifford, the
acknowledged master of all that pertained to sportsmanship, took command. "You, Rowden," he said, "divide your flies with Elliott and keep an eye on
him or else he'll be trying to put on a float and sinker. Prevent him by
force from grubbing about for worms." Elliott protested, but was forced to smile in the general laugh. "You make me ill," he asserted; "do you think this is my first trout?" "I shall be delighted to see your first trout," said Clifford, and dodging
a fly hook, hurled with intent to hit, proceeded to sort and equip three
slender rods destined to bring joy and fish to Cécil, Colette, and
Jacqueline. With perfect gravity he ornamented each line with four split
shot, a small hook, and a brilliant quill float. "_I_ shall never touch the worms," announced Cécile with a shudder. Jacqueline and Colette hastened to sustain her, and Hastings pleasantly
offered to act in the capacity of general baiter and taker-off of fish. But Cécile, doubtless fascinated by the gaudy flies in Clifford's book,
decided to accept lessons from him in the true art, and presently
disappeared up the Ept with Clifford in tow. Elliott looked doubtfully at Colette. "I prefer gudgeons," said that damsel with decision, "and you and Monsieur
Rowden may go away when you please; may they not, Jacqueline?" "Certainly," responded Jacqueline. Elliott, undecided, examined his rod and reel. "You've got your reel on wrong side up," observed Rowden. Elliott wavered, and stole a glance at Colette. "I--I--have almost decided to--er--not to flip the flies about just now,"
he began. "There's the pole that Cécile left--"

"Don't call it a pole," corrected Rowden.