I glanced down and saw that
in my hurry I had put on a pair of his old india-rubbers. My feet
were not small or pretty, and the addition did not add to their
beauty.
"Let me go, sir," I remarked quietly. "This is entirely improper;
it sets a bad example for your child." And I firmly but gently
extricated myself from his grasp. I approached the door. He
seemed for a moment buried in deep thought.
"You say this was a negress?"
"Yes, sir."
"Humph, No. 1, I suppose?"
"Who is Number One, sir?"
"My FIRST," he remarked, with a significant and sarcastic smile.
Then, relapsing into his old manner, he threw his boots at my head,
and bade me begone. I withdrew calmly.
CHAPTER V.
My pupil was a bright little girl, who spoke French with a perfect
accent. Her mother had been a French ballet-dancer, which probably
accounted for it. Although she was only six years old, it was easy
to perceive that she had been several times in love. She once said
to me:--
"Miss Mix, did you ever have the grande passion? Did you ever feel
a fluttering here?" and she placed her hand upon her small chest,
and sighed quaintly, "a kind of distaste for bonbons and caromels,
when the world seemed as tasteless and hollow as a broken cordial
drop.
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