"
"And keep us waiting half-an-hour!" she grumbled.
"The hotel is crammed up to the mansarde," said good-natured Lord
Hartledon, who was easily pleased, and rather tolerant of neglect in
French hotels. "Is not that the right word, Maude? You took me to task
yesterday for saying garret. The servants are run off their legs."
"Then the hotel should keep more servants. I am quite sick of having to
ring twice. A week ago I wished I was out of the place."
"My dear Maude, why did you not say so? If you'd like to go on at once to
Germany--"
"Lettres et journal pour monsieur," interrupted a waiter, entering with
two letters and the _Times_.
"One for you, Maude," handing a letter to his wife. "Don't go," he
continued to the waiter; "we want some more chocolate; this is cold. Tell
him in French, Maude."
But Lady Hartledon did not hear; or if she heard, did not heed; she was
already absorbed in the contents of her letter.
"Ici," said Hartledon, pushing the chocolate-pot towards the man, and
rallying the best French he could command, "encore du chocolat. Toute
froide, _this_. Et puis depechez vous; il est tarde, et nous avons besoin
de sortir."
The man was accustomed to the French of Englishmen, and withdrew without
moving a muscle of his face. But Lady Hartledon's ears had been set on
edge.
"_Don't_ attempt French again, Val. They'll understand you if you speak
in English.
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