‘Étes-vous Francais?’ Her eyes, he noted, followed from himself to Hilary and back again, but she did not speak. The inner apartment was rather gracefully furnished with a thick, fine Turkish carpet, a good brass fender, a fine old bureau, and on the walls were engravings of two young girls’ heads by Greuze, and of some modern picture of boys bathing in a sunlit pool. Furious shouting, and the thunder of running feet. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. " "Ja—ja," returned the Hollander. \" He commented heartily, wiping the sweat from his brow with his hand. “Home, of course,” she answered. It is the old story of a Westerner meddling with an Eastern custom. “Great. Lucy jammed her foot down onto Mark McCloskey’s forehead.
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