Daudet couldn't have written of us.

Our wicked women are too inglorious.

Now Sapho--" Miss Cardiff stopped at the ringing of the door-bell.
"Oh," she said, "here is my father.

You will let me give you a cup of tea now, won't you ?" The maid was bringing in the tray.

"I should like you to meet my father." Lawrence Cardiff's grasp was on the door-handle almost as she spoke.