"Two years ago," she answered. "They died within a few months of one
another."
"Very sad--very sad indeed," he remarked uneasily. "I remember hearing
something about it. I believe that the common report was that you and
your sister had come to Paris to study painting."
She assented gently.
"We have a small studio," she murmured, "in the Rue de St. Pierre."
Sir John looked at her sideways. Her eyes were fixed upon the ground,
the pink colour coming and going in her cheeks was very delicate and
girlish. After all, this could never be the black sheep. He had been
quite right to sit down. It was astonishing how seldom it was that his
instincts betrayed him. He breathed a little sigh of satisfaction.
"Come," he continued, "the world after all is a very small place. We
are not altogether strangers, are we? I feel that under the
circumstances I have the right to offer you my advice, and if
necessary my help. I beg that you will consider me your friend."
She looked at him with fluttering eyelids--sweetly grateful. It was
such an unexpected stroke of fortune. Sir John was not used to such
glances, and he liked them.
"It is so difficult," she murmured, "so impossible to explain. Even to
my own brother--if I had one--I could not tell everything, and you,
although you are so kind, you are almost a stranger, aren't you?"
"No, no!" he protested. "You must not think of me as one. Try and
consider me your elder brother, or an old family friend, whichever you
like best."
She thanked him with one of her shy little glances. More than ever Sir
John was glad that he had sat down.
"It is very, very difficult," she continued, looking steadfastly at
the ground. "Only--I have come face to face--with something terrible,
and wholly unexpected trouble. I want to leave Paris to-day--this very
day. I want to leave it for ever."
He looked at her very gravely.
"But your sister?" he asked. "What of her? Have you quarrelled with
her?"
The girl shook her head.
"No," she answered. "I have not quarrelled with her. It is simply our
point of view which is altogether different. I want to get away--to go
to London. I cannot explain beyond that."
"Then I am sure," Sir John declared, "that I shall not ask you. I know
nothing about the matter, but I feel convinced that you are right. You
ought to have had better advice two years ago. Paris is not the place
for two young girls. I presume that you have been living alone?"