It would be a point in Miss Falconer's favor
if I found her conventionally established--a decided point. Along most
lines I was in the dark concerning her, but to one dictum I dared
to hold: no girl of twenty-two or thereabouts, more than ordinarily
attractive, ought to be traveling unchaperoned about this wicked world.
I felt very cheerful, very contented, as my taxi bore me into old Paris.
The ancient streets, had a decided lure and charm. Now we passed a
quaint church, now a dim and winding alley, now a house with mansard
windows or a portal of carved stone. On all sides were buildings that in
the old days had been the _hotels_ of famous gentry, this one sheltering
a Montmorency, that one a Clisson or Soubise. It was just the setting
for a romance by Dumas. And, with a chuckle, I felt myself in sudden
sympathy with that writer's heroes, none of whom had, it seemed to me,
been enmeshed in a mystery more baffling or involved than mine.
"They've got nothing on my affair," I decided, "with their masks and
poisoned drinks and swords. For a fellow who leads a cut-and-dried
existence generally, I've been having quite a lively time.
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