They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. “Diedermayer’s a kiss-ass. ‘I’m a soldier, missie. ‘But what way, Emile?’ ‘Your family, mademoiselle, the family of your father. Both had dropped the rather elaborate politeness of the dining-room, and in their faces an impartial observer would have discovered little lines of obstinate wilfulness in common; a certain hardness—sharp, indeed, in the father and softly rounded in the daughter—but hardness nevertheless, that made every compromise a bargain and every charity a discount. But the offences I have committed are venial in comparison with what I should commit were I to wed your father.
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