It occurred to her also that the vacuously amiable Adele had once or twice regarded her with the same precocious, childlike curiosity and infantine cunning she had once before exhibited.

All this did not, however, abate her admiration for both--perhaps particularly for this picturesquely gentlemanly young fellow, with his gentle audacities of compliment, his caressing attentions, and his unfailing and equal address.

And when, discovering that she had mislaid her fan for the fifth time that morning, he started up with equal and undiminished fire to go again and fetch it, the look of grateful pleasure and pleading perplexity in her pretty eyes might have turned a less conceited brain than his.
"But you don't know where it is!" "I shall find it by instinct." "You are spoiling me--you two." The parenthesis was a hesitating addition, but she continued, with fresh sincerity, "I shall be quite helpless when I leave here--if I am ever able to go by myself." "Don't ever go, then." "But just now I want my fan; it is so close everywhere to-day." "I fly, mademoiselle." He started to the door.
She called after him:-- "Let me help your instinct, then; I had it last in the major's study." "That was where I was going." He disappeared.

Rose got up and moved uneasily towards the window.

"How queer and quiet it looks outside.