"Since I've been down 'ere, I've 'ad more opportunity to observe you. I 'ope you will allow me to say I think very highly of you." He waved his hand with the elegance of a Sir Charles Grandison. "Very 'ighly indeed! Your youth is most becoming to you! If you only 'ad a little more chick, there'd be nothing left to desire!"

"A little more--what?" asked Britta, opening her blue eyes very wide in puzzled amusement.

"Chick!" replied Briggs, with persistent persuasiveness. "Chick, Miss Britta, is a French word much used by the aristocracy. Coming from Norway, an 'avin' perhaps a very limited experience, you mayn't 'ave 'erd it--but eddicated people 'ere find it very convenient and expressive. Chick means style,--the thing, the go, the fashion. For example, everything your lady wears is chick!"

"Really!" said Britta, with a wandering and innocent air. "How funny! It doesn't sound like French, at all, Mr. Briggs,--it's more like English."

"Perhaps the Paris accent isn't familiar to you yet," remarked Briggs majestically. "Your stay in the gay metropolis was probably short. Now, I 'ave been there many times--ah, Paris, Paris!" he paused in a sort of ecstacy, then, with a side leer, continued--"You'd 'ardly believe 'ow wicked I am in Paris, Miss Britta! I am, indeed! It is something in the hair of the Bollyvards, I suppose! And the caffy life excites my nerves."

"Then you shouldn't go there," said Britta gravely, though her eyes twinkled with repressed fun. "It can't be good for you. And, oh! I'm so sorry, Mr. Briggs, to think that you are ever wicked!" And she laughed.

"It's not for long," explained Briggs, with a comically satisfied, yet penitent, look. "It is only a sort of breaking out,--a fit of 'igh spirits. Hall men are so at times! It's chick to run a little wild in Paris. But Miss Britta, if you were with me I should never run wild!" Here his arm made another attempt to get round her waist--and again she skillfully, and with some show of anger, avoided it.

"Ah, you're very 'ard upon me," he then observed, "Very, very, 'ard! But I won't complain, my--my dear gal--one day you'll know me better!" He stopped and looked at her very intently. "Miss Britta," he said abruptly, "you've a great affection for your lady, 'aven't you?"

Instantly Britta's face flushed, and she was all attention.




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