"Thank you, Jimmy," said Barbara. "Yes, I felt much the same as you say you did. It made me think that there was no sense in wasting yourself over a lot of idle fancies. Much better wait till exactly the right man comes along, and give him everything."
"H'm! Well!" said Jimmy, evidently somewhat at a loss. "But _you_ haven't had much time for idle fancies."
"Oh, I don't know," said Barbara. "I wouldn't tell it to everybody, but I know it's safe with you. You understand these things. I-- No, I can't after all. Please forget what I said, Jimmy. There is nobody; nobody at all; and if there were, you're the last person I should confess it to."
"My dear child," said Jimmy, "you've said what you have said, and I'm very glad you've said it to me. There's nothing to be ashamed of. I suppose what you mean is that you've taken a fancy to some fellow and don't like to acknowledge it because you think it mayn't be returned."
"Well, I shouldn't be so sure of that if I were you," said Jimmy. "You're young, and you don't know men. You see _them_ taking fancies to people, but perhaps after all there isn't much in it. This fellow may be thinking a great deal about you all the time; perhaps not liking to show it himself because you haven't given him any encouragement."
"Oh, no. I know he can't possibly care for me at all. Besides, it's all over now. I _was_ rather weak, but I'm not any more."
"If this chap let you see that he was thinking about you, and was very glad to know that you were thinking about him in that way, I suppose it wouldn't be over, would it?"
"I think so, but I couldn't be certain till I got back."
"Got back! What do you mean? Got back where?"
"Why, to Paris. You see, I've had six weeks to get over it."
Jimmy stopped and looked at her sternly. "Do you mean to say, Barbara, that you've fallen in love with some ass of a fellow in Paris?" he asked.
"Oh, he wasn't an ass, Jimmy. He was a splendid-looking man. He was one of the Gardes Municipales who was on duty at the Opéra. I saw him three times. Before that it was one of the clergy at the English Church. Now I've begun I may as well tell you everything. Before that there was a driver of a _fiacre_ who used to stand in the Place Saint Sulpice, but he was much too old--about sixty-five, I should think, and that didn't last long. Before that--oh, but I can't tell you any more. I'm glad I've made a clean breast of it, though. _You_ understand it all, I know, and can make allowances."