"Yes, sit down by me," said Number One, indicating a chair. "This is the
Queen's throne."
"By me," said Number Two. "I'll cut up your meat for you."
"By me," said Number Three. "I'll give you my share of pudding."
By this time I was red to the ears, not knowing whether it were wiser
for a lady's-maid to run away, or to take the rough chaff
good-humouredly, and make the best of it. I fluttered, undecided, never
thinking of the old adage concerning the woman who hesitates.
In an instant, it was forcibly recalled to my mind, for Number One
chauffeur, smelling strongly of the good red wine of Provence, came
forward and offered me his arm.
This was too much.
"Please don't!" I stammered, in my confusion speaking English.
"_Ah, Mademoiselle est Anglaise!_" the two others exclaimed, "_Vive
l'entente cordiale!_ We are Frenchmen. You are Italian. She belongs to
our side."
"Let her choose," said the handsome Italian, pointing his moustache and
doing such execution upon me with his splendid eyes, that if they'd been
Maxim guns I should have fallen riddled with bullets.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133