I laid my hand upon his arm.
"Where did you meet her, Gilbert?" I asked. "Who is she? Where does she
come from? How long have you known her?"
"Gently, my dear fellow!" he answered calmly. "I met her at Lady
Tredwell's about a fortnight ago. I really know very little about her,
except that she seems a charming young lady."
"Where does she come from?" I asked--"what country, I mean? She speaks
like a foreigner!"
"Oh! she's American, of course," he told me--"a young American lady of
fortune, I believe."
"American," I repeated vaguely, "are you sure?"
"Perfectly!" he answered.
"Any relatives here?" I asked.
"None that I know of," he admitted.
"Any connection with the stage?"
"Certainly not! I told you that I met her at Lady Tredwell's."
We walked into the luncheon room in silence. Presently my cousin showed
signs of irritation.
"What the mischief are you so glum about?" he asked.
I looked up.
"I am not glum," I answered. "I was just thinking that the Hotel
Universal seemed rather a queer place for a young lady with a French
maid, a Japanese spaniel, and--no chaperon.
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