"I shall soon be going away." "When are you going away ?" "Very soon--any day." "I am very sorry," said Mrs.Acton.

"I hoped you would stay--always." "Always ?" Eugenia demanded.
"Well, I mean a long time," said Mrs.Acton, in her sweet, feeble tone.
"They tell me you are so comfortable--that you have got such a beautiful little house." Eugenia stared--that is, she smiled; she thought of her poor little chalet and she wondered whether her hostess were jesting.

"Yes, my house is exquisite," she said; "though not to be compared to yours." "And my son is so fond of going to see you," Mrs.Acton added.

"I am afraid my son will miss you." "Ah, dear madame," said Eugenia, with a little laugh, "I can't stay in America for your son!" "Don't you like America ?" The Baroness looked at the front of her dress.

"If I liked it--that would not be staying for your son!" Mrs.Acton gazed at her with her grave, tender eyes, as if she had not quite understood.