"
"But how is that?--does Aunt Barbara not approve of society?"
"Oh, yes, but she thinks I am not old enough," answered
Madelon, demurely. "So I am not out yet, and I have not been
to a ball since I was ten years old."
"And do you like that sort of thing? It does not sound at all
lively," said Graham.
"It is rather dull," replied Madelon, "simply; but then I think
everything in England is--is _triste_--I beg your pardon," she
added, quickly, colouring, "I did not mean to complain."
"No, no, I understand. You need not mind what you say to me,
Madelon; I want to know what you are doing, what sort of life
you are leading, how you get on. So you find England _triste?_
In what way?"
"I don't know--not in one way or another--it is everything.
There is no life, no movement, no colour, or sunshine--yes, the
sun shines, of course, but it is different. Ah, Monsieur
Horace, you who have just come back to it, do you not
understand what I mean?"
"I think I do in a way; but then, you know, coming to England
is coming home to me, Madelon, and that makes a great
difference.
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