You have grown to be a woman in stature--you must be one in fact.

You know I told you at first to be careful how you acted with--" "Father, dear old Father!" she cried, springing from her seat and throwing her arms around his neck.

"Have I appeared forward and unwomanly?
Tell me, Father, tell me! I did not mean to do anything--" "Quietly, my child, don't give way to excitement." He gently put her from him and crossed himself--a habit of his when suddenly perplexed--then added: "You have done no evil; but there are proprieties which a young woman must not overstep.

You are impulsive, too impulsive; and it will not do to let a young man see that you--that you--" "Father, I understand," she interrupted, and her face grew very pale.
Madame Roussillon came to the door, flushed with stooping over the fire, and announced that the steak was ready.
"Bring the wine, Alice," she added, "a bottle of Bordeaux." She stood for a breath of two, her red hands on her hips, looking first at Father Beret, then at Alice.
"Quarreling again about the romances ?" she inquired.

"She's been at it again ?--she's found 'em again ?" "Yes," said Father Beret, with a queer, dry smile, "more romance.