The things we do!

As the door of an apartment on the first floor opened,
we heard a cry as of joy; and that nobleman in a magnificent Persian
dressing-gown, rushing from the room, plunged down the stairs, and began
kissing Clive, to the respectful astonishment of the Titan in livery.
"Come that I present you, my friends," our good little Frenchman
exclaimed "to Madame la--to my wife!" We entered the drawing-room; a
demure little little lady, of near sixty years of age, was seated there,
and we were presented in form to Madame Princesse de Moncontour, nee
Higg, of Manchester. She made us a stiff little curtsey, but looked not
ill-natured; indeed, few women could look at Clive Newcome's gallant
figure and brave smiling countenance and keep a frown on their own very
long.
"I have 'eard of you from somebodys else besides the Prince," said the
lady, with rather a blush "Your uncle has spoke to me hoften about you,
Mr. Clive, and about your good father."
"C'est son Directeur," whispers Florac to me.


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