Chapter 16 - Page 2

exactly this.

That a governess chosen by Coombe--though he would seem not to
appear in the matter--would preside over the new rooms, Feather
knew without a shadow of doubt.

A certain almost silent and always high-bred dominance over her
existence she accepted as the inevitable, even while she fretted
helplessly. Without him, she would be tossed, a broken butterfly,
into the gutter. She knew her London. No one would pick her up
unless to break her into smaller atoms and toss her away again.
The freedom he allowed her after all was wonderful. It was because
he disdained interference.

But there was a line not to be crossed--there must not even be an
attempt at crossing it. Why he cared about that she did not know.

"You must be like Caesar's wife," he said rather grimly, after an
interview in which he had given her a certain unsparing warning.

"And I am nobody's wife. What did Caesar's wife do?" she asked.

"Nothing." And he told her the story and, when she had heard him
tell it, she understood certain things clearly.

Mademoiselle Valle was an intelligent, mature Frenchwoman. She
presented herself to Mrs. Gareth-Lawless for inspection and, in
ten minutes, realized that the power to inspect and sum up existed
only on her own side. This pretty woman neither knew what inquiries
to make nor cared for such replies as were given. Being swift to
reason and practical in deduction, Mademoiselle Valle did not make
the blunder of deciding that this light presence argued that she
would be under no supervision more serious. The excellent Benby,
one was made aware, acted and the excellent Benby, one was made
aware, acted under clearly defined orders. Milord Coombe--among
other things the best dressed and perhaps the least comprehended
man in London--was concerned in this, though on what grounds
practical persons could not explain to themselves. His connection
with the narrow house on the right side of the right street
was entirely comprehensible. The lenient felt nothing blatant or
objectionable about it. Mademoiselle Valle herself was not disturbed
by mere rumour. The education, manner and morals of the little
girl she could account for. These alone were to be her affair, and
she was competent to undertake their superintendence.

Therefore, she sat and listened with respectful intelligence to
the birdlike chatter of Mrs. Gareth-Lawless. (What a pretty woman!
The silhouette of a jeune fille!)

Mrs. Gareth-Lawless felt that, on her part, she had done all that
was required of her.

"I'm afraid she's rather a dull child, Mademoiselle," she said in
farewell. "You know children's ways and you'll understand what I
mean. She