Elfrida was looking down.

Presently she raised her eyes, and they were larger than ever, and wet.
"No," she said, a little tensely.

"I have tried" -- "trr-hied," she pronounced it--"but--but I cannot." Lawrence Cardiff looked at his teaspoon in a considering way, and Janet reflected, not without indignation, that this was the manner in which people who cared for them might be expected to speak of the dead.

But Elfrida cut short the reflection by turning to her brightly.

"When Mr.Cardiff came in," she said, "you were telling me why a Daudet could not write about the English.