After this little incident, we remained a fortnight longer in Nice.
Whether it was the spanking I had given Frances, with the promise of others if she misbehaved; or whether it was her own good sense that made her more careful, I do not know; but anyway I never had the least fault to find with her during the remainder of our stay. She was as full of fun as ever she had been, and she laughed and joked with her admirers, but she kept them all more at a distance; and she snubbed Brooke so unmistakably, that he left the hotel entirely. And I must say, I was glad when he went; for he was a handsome young fellow, with a persuasive tongue, and therefore a dangerous man to have always about one’s sweetheart.
On leaving Nice, we went direct to Paris, putting up at one of the hotels b the Rue de Rivoli, And after Frances had added some charming toilettes to her already large stock of dresses, we gave ourselves up to the delights of the gay city. First of all, she thoroughly “did” the Louvre, which took several days, and I got heartily sick of tramping through the apparently endless galleries of pictures and statuary; for my sweetheart always made me accompany her; saying that she could not enjoy herself unless I was with her. Then we visited the Tuileries, and the gardens at Versailles; drove frequently in the Bois de Boulogne, and made excursions to all the other places of interest.
Finally, when we had “done” all the ordinary sights, Frances, who had by this time learnt a thing or two, insisted upon my showing her Paris by night I could speak French, and I “knew my way about”; so I took her to all sorts of queer places, including the “Moulin Rouge,” where she saw the celebrated quadrille danced, which amused her very much. She was also greatly taken with the petticoats and drawers, and the shoes and stockings worn by the principal dancers b the “high kicking” part of the entertainment. And the very next day she went off, and bought a complete rig-out of the dainty garments; saying to me, as she laughingly showed the things: “I intend to practise high kicking. It will amuse you.”
After that, nearly every morning, she used to dress herself in the flounced petticoats, and the much beribboned, wide, gauzy looking drawers with deep lace frills, and put on the long silk stockings, and high-heeled pointed shoes. Then, while I sat lazily in a chair, she would do her best to imitate the dancers at the “Moulin Rouge.”
I enjoyed watching the pretty, graceful, well-made girl, whirling round and round, and kicking up her shapely legs in the midst of a cloud of filmy drapery; the slit of her drawers slightly open, so that I had ravishing glimpses of her golden-haired cunt, and her lovely white bottom. It was a very “fetching” sight, and it invariably gave me a cockstand, so the performance always ended the same way. I used to seize the flushed, panting girl, pull off her dainty drawers, and then poke her in some fancy position.
Among the places to which I took her, was a certain establishment where there were about a dozen girls; and at this place we saw naked tableaux of various sorts; but they were no better than the one I had seen at Mrs. Leslie’s. There were no tableaux of whipping; for in France the “delights of the rod” do not seem to be appreciated so much as they are in England.
One of the tableaux, which showed the various means by which females could mutually gratify their passions, was a perfect revelation to Frances, who had not the faintest idea that women ever amused themselves in such extraordinary ways. The girl was still quite ignorant of many things connected with the “Art of Love”; as I had never mentioned to her anything about “Tribadism,” “Dildoes,” or any of the occult mysteries of sexual passions. She knew that men poked women in various positions, — I had shown her them all-but there her knowledge had ended.
When we got back to the hotel that night, and were talking over all we had seen; she said she did not believe that girls ever did such things to each other, in reality. I laughed, and said: “Oh yes, they do. And more often than people think.” Then I asked: “Did none of the big girls ever try to tickle you between the legs when you were at school?”
“Yes; once a big girl took me on her lap, put her hand up my petticoats and let down my drawers; then she kissed me, and at the same time put her finger up ‘it,’ hurting me very much and also frightening me. I did not understand what it all meant, but I ran crying to Airs. Blake and told her what the girl had done to me. She was very angry, and I know she birched the girl, for I saw her, a short time after, come out of Mrs. Blake’s room, crying and rubbing her bottom. And she called me a nasty little tell-tale.”
I laughed, saying: “Well, Frances; if you would not let the big girl play with your little ‘pussy’; you may be sure there were other girls not so particular. That sort of thing goes on in all girls’ schools.”
Then she asked me if there were any other queer sights to be seen at the house where we had been that night.
I replied that if she liked she could see a man and a woman actually engaged in the “lists of love.” She laughed heartily at the idea of the thing, and said she would very much like to see such a sight. So I promised to take her to the establishment the following night; and then we went to bed.
At ten o’clock next night, we drove to the establishment, and I told “Madame” what I wanted to see. She smiled, and at once took us up to a small, but comfortably furnished room, dimly lighted by a shaded lamp. One side of the room was panelled with curved woodwork, in which, low down, and cunningly concealed, were several peepholes and through them could be seen the adjoining apartment, which was handsomely furnished and brilliantly lighted; so that the smallest details of the scene that followed were clearly seen by Frances and me.
Drawing two easy-chairs up to the panel, Madame told us to take our seats; then she left us, and we sat down and waited with our eyes glued to the peepholes.
In a short time we saw a man and a woman come into the room; the man was a tall stalwart fellow about thirty years of age, dressed in evening clothes, but he did not look like a gentleman; the woman, a big, strapping, rather coarse, though not bad-looking wench, who had nothing on but her chemise, shoes and stockings. She was about twenty-five.
I do not know whether the pair knew they were being watched, or not, but at any rate they acted all through the affair in a perfectly natural and unembarrassed way; and they certainly enjoyed themselves.
No time was wasted. The man gave the woman a sounding kiss on her thick red lips, then he stripped to his shut, and taking her on his knees, pulled off her chemise, leaving her stark naked, except for her shoes and her long scarlet silk stockings, which came up to the middle of her thighs, and were gartered with large bows of black ribbon. The woman’s skin was fairly white; and she had immense bubbles tipped with big red nipples, her thighs were massive, and her legs were thick; and the lower pan of her great belly was thickly covered with dark brown hair, which completely hid the slit of her cunt.
The fun began. The man took in his mouth, one after the other, the woman’s nipples, nibbling them and sucking them with apparent relish, at the same rime feeling her body all over with both hands. Next, he laid her face downwards across his knees and played for a rime with her enormous bottom; he stroked it, pinched it all over, and rubbed his hands up and down the division; then pulling the fat cheeks apart, he looked at the spot between them, and grinned. He then began to spank her with no light hand; the noise of the slaps resounding through the room, while the flesh of her fat buttocks quivered like jelly, and her skin rapidly grew red. She bore the pain for a short rime, then she twisted herself round and caught hold of the man’s hands, exclaiming, — in French of course: “That is enough! I won’t have any more spanking.”
She then slipped off his knees, and kneeling at his feet, tucked up his shirt, revealing his whacking great tool standing stiffly erect with its red rip uncovered. Bending her head down, she took into her mouth nearly half the length of the man’s member, and began to “gamahuche” him, at the same time tickling his balls with her fingers, while he, with his eyes gleaming with sensual pleasure, played with her great titties; and I thought he was going to finish the affair in her mouth. But he suddenly jumped up, and taking the woman in his aims, laid her on a couch, and stretched her legs so widely apart, that the loose red lips of her fat cunt gaped open and showed the pink inner lips. Putting his head between her thighs, he buried his face in the forest of hair, and thrusting his tongue up her slit; tickled her clitoris to such an extent that she squirmed about, kicked up her legs, and giggled loudly.
They certainly did spin out their pleasure!
At last, he laid himself down upon her, clasped his hands under her bottom, put his tongue into her mouth, and drove the weapon up to the hilt in the sheath. Then he began to fuck her furiously, and as his shirt was half-way up his back, we could see his bare bottom rising and falling, and his prick working up and down, like the piston of a steam engine, in the woman’s cunt; while she folded her arms round him, threw her legs over his loins, and heaved her bottom up to meet his strokes. He worked quicker and quicker, the woman bounced and wriggled, her whole body quivering under the violence of his thrusts. He came to the short digs, she grunted and writhed; and at last, after a convulsive dig, the spasm seized them both; and we could see the muscles of the man’s bottom stiffen, as he pressed the woman to his breast at the supreme moment; while she wriggled her bottom in grand style as the discharge gushed up her cunt; while at the same time a most ridiculous expression came to her face, and she turned up her eyes till nothing but the whites could be seen. Then, after a final wriggle, they lay in each other’s arms, breathing quickly from their exertions.
He had given her a most lusty poke!
It had been a most lascivious and exciting spectacle, and my cock was aching from its prolonged erection. I rose from my chair and looked at Frances, who had also risen from her seat, and who appeared to be deeply stirred by the scene she had witnessed.
Her face was scarlet, her bosom was heaving, and her great blue eyes, sparkling with desire, seemed to be starting out of her head.
Without saying a word, she put her hands under her clothes, unfastened her drawers, and kicked them off her legs; then going to a couch she laid herself down upon it, and smiled at me invitingly.
Burning with lust, I ran to her, whisked up her petticoats, and got between her outstretched legs; then taking her in my arms, I poked her vigorously, and with one intense feeling of delight. Frances also seemed to feel a very great sensation of pleasure, for she bucked up, and wriggled, even more voluptuously than she usually did.
As soon as we had made ourselves tidy, I rang the bell for Madame Leblanc and settled with her. Then Frances and I left the house, drove to a restaurant, and had a nice little supper; finally reaching our hotel at about one o’clock in the morning. But, late as it was, we sat down to have a talk over the evening’s amusement. After a few general observations on the whole affair; Frances remarked: “There were two things which surprised me very much.”
“What were they?” I asked.
“Why, the woman took the man’s ‘thing’ in her mouth, and appeared to be sucking it; and afterwards the man put his tongue up the woman’s ‘thing.’ We have never kissed each other in that way.”
“No. But we will some time or other; if you think you would like it,” I replied, laughing.
“I am sure I should like it for a change,” she said. “Oh, it must be delicious to be tickled by a soft, warm tongue,” she added, looking at me with glistening eyes, and speaking in a fervent way.
“You would think it delicious for a moment or two, but you would not find it so satisfying as the real thing,” I remarked.
She laughed, saying: “Well anyhow, I’ll try it some day.” Then she went on: “Did you observe what a queer look the woman put on, and how she turned up her eyes at the ‘supreme moment,’ and did you notice how violently she wriggled her bottom? She did look so funny in every way.”
I replied that I had noticed everything. She continued: “I know that I wriggle my bottom a little when you ‘do it’ to me, — I can’t help it, though it seems absurd-but I don’t think I turn up my eyes and look as silly as that woman did.”
“Oh yes, you do,” I said laughing. “All women turn up their eyes and look queer when the spasm seizes them; and they all wriggle their bottoms more or less violently when they feel the ‘stuff’ spurting up them.”
“Well,” she said, “it was exciting to watch the two ‘doing it’; but I must say it was a ridiculous sight to see the two bare bottoms working up and down.”
“Yes, Frances,” I observed, smiling. “I quite agree with you. The action looks most ridiculous, but the sensation is delightful, as you well know.”
“Yes, it is nice,” she said, laughing.
“Well, let us go to bed and practise the movement,” I said, getting up from my chair, and passing through the folding doors into our bedroom. She followed, and in a short rime our bottoms were working up and down, and her eyes were turning up as she wriggled and squirmed in the delicious spasm.
A fortnight passed, and though we did not pay any more visits to Madame Leblanc’s establishment, we amused ourselves very pleasantly in many other ways. It was the middle of April; there was a balmy, spring-like feeling in the air; the trees in the Bois de Boulogne were putting forth their leaves, and the snowdrops and crocuses were in full bloom; so one particularly bright morning we made up our minds to spend the day at Versailles.
As soon as we had breakfasted, Frances arrayed herself in a most dainty toilette; then we left the hotel and walked to the Palais Royal, intending to have a look at the shops before starting on our excursion. But after we had strolled about for a short time, Frances discovered that she had left all her keys and her purse, containing upwards of five pounds, behind her in our bedroom.
So we at once walked back to the hotel, and went up to our apartments to get the forgotten ankles. On opening the door of the bedroom, we saw the chambermaid who always attended us, a girl named Annette, kneeling beside one of Frances’ trunks, from which nearly all the contents had been taken, and scattered on the floor. Annette had thought we had gone away for the day as I had told her that we should not be back to dinner.
When she saw us suddenly enter the room, she jumped up, turned very pale, and stood looking at us, utterly taken aback, and trembling all over. She was a tall, slim, good-looking girl about twenty-one years old; with a trim figure, black hair and eyes, red lips, and white teeth, and a saucy little nez retrousse. She had a clear olive complexion; and she was dressed in a well-fitting black frock, with white apron, collar and cuffs; and her luxuriant hair was covered with a white, frilled cap with scarlet ribbons, Frances at once went to the toilet table, on which she had left her purse; but it was gone, and when she informed me of the fact, I locked the door and put the key in my pocket.
Then I went to the trembling girl and searched her capacious pocket, finding in it the purse, half-a-dozen lace handkerchiefs, the same number of pairs of gloves, and also a number of small articles which she had taken out of the trunk. And had we not happened to return unexpectedly, and thus catch the thief red-handed, we should never have known who had stolen the things.
Frances could not speak French, so I acted as spokesman; saying to the girl in her own language; which I will here translate into English: “We have caught you nicely, Annette.
You are a thief. What have you got to say for yourself before I send for the manager of the hotel and ask him to hand you over to the police?” I had no intention of giving her in charge; as the whole thing would have been a great bore; but I wanted to give the girl a fright.
She burst into a flood of tears, wringing her hands, and exclaiming in accents of entreaty: “Oh, sir! Oh, sir! Don’t give me to the police. I am an honest girl, but I was suddenly tempted to do wrong when I saw the purse and the keys on the table. Oh, do not have me arrested! Forgive me! Oh! please forgive me, I have an old mother co support Oh! do forgive me!”
She was in an awful funk, and it suddenly struck me that I might get some fun out of the affair. I thought it very probable, that rather than go to gaol, she would let me flog her. At any rate I would give her the choice of the alternatives; and I hoped she would choose the flogging. She was a clean-looking, pretty girl, and my cock stirred at the thought of turning her up, and reddening her bottom.
So, I said to her: “You are a thief, and therefore you must be punished; but I will not hand you over to the police, if you will consent to receive a flogging, in the same way that we flog naughty girls in England.” She stopped crying and looked at me for a moment, with her big black eyes widely opened, as if she hardly grasped the meaning of my words; then she said in a tone of relief: “Oh, sir, rather than go to prison and lose my good character, I will consent to receive any punishment you like to inflict upon me.”
“Very well,” I said. “But you must clearly understand that I will flog you soundly.”
She shuddered slightly, and asked in a shaky voice: “But, sir, in what way do you intend to flog me?”
“I intend to flog you upon your bare bottom,” I replied.
She blushed scarlet, and again began to cry, saying in a horrified tone: “Oh, but sir; when I said I would cake the punishment, I did not think you intended to inflict it on my bare person. I thought you were going to flog me over my clothes. You must not strip me. I cannot bear the exposure. It would be too shameful. Oh! I cannot suffer it.”
“Well, if you will not submit yourself to me entirely, I must send for the police,” I said, walking to the bell-rope and taking it in my hand.
“Oh, don’t ring the bell! Wait a moment. Oh! what shall I do! Oh, don’t send for the police!” she wailed in a piteous tone, stretching out her arms with an imploring gesture towards me, while the tears ran down her flushed cheeks.
“I will ring the bell if you don’t consent to take the flogging on your bare bottom,” I said sternly.
She wrung her hands, and wept bitterly; then after a few moments’ hesitation, she sobbed out in broken accents: “Oh-sir-it is shameful to be laid bare. But-I-cannot-go to prison. I-must-submit. Oh! Oh!”
Then, turning her back to us, she covered her blushing face with her apron, and sobbed.
The girl’s horror at the idea of her bottom being exposed, was deep and unfeigned; for though she was a French chambermaid, she was evidently a modest girl. But I must confess that the sight of her distress added piquancy to the whole affair. It always affords great pleasure, to a “lover of the rod,” to flog a female culprit who appears to feel the shame of the exposure more than the pain of the whipping.
All the time this talk had been going on, Frances had stood looking much interested, but not understanding a word that was said; and she now impatiently asked what I had been saying.
I told her that I had given Annette the alternative of going to gaol or taking a flogging; and that she had chosen the flogging.
“She deserves it,” said Frances emphatically, and with rather a grim smile. Then, eagerly: “Let me flog her. You know I have long been wanting to inflict corporal punishment; and now there is a chance for me. Do let me flog her.”
I smiled; but I could quite understand her desire to whip, and I resolved to let her have her wish. “All right,” I said. “I will ‘horse’ her on my back, and you shall flog her.”
Frances looked very pleased, and at once prepared for action, by taking off her gloves, hat, and jacket. Then she said: “We have got no rod; and I am not going to make my hand sore by spanking her; so you must find something for me to flog her with.”
I looked round the room for some instrument of punishment, and my eyes fell on a pair of small rug straps, each about a couple of feet long and half-an-inch wide. One of them would do very well, as it would sting the culprit’s bottom sharply without bruising the flesh.
So I pointed the straps out to Frances, and told her to take one of them. Annette was still standing with her back towards us, her apron was over her head, and she was crying. Going to her, I laid my hand on her shoulder, turned her round, and drew her hands away from her face; saying: “The lady-my wife-is going to flog you. So your punishment will not be so severe as it would be, were I to flog you. Now, take off your dress and stays.”
“Oh, if Monsieur would please leave the room. I promise not to resist Madame while she flogs me,” said Annette, clasping her hands, and speaking in a pleading way.
“I will not leave the room. I am going to hold you while you are being punished. Remove your dress and stays; and be quick, or I will ring the bell.”
She hesitated a moment; and I laid my hand again on the bell-rope; then heaving a deep sigh, she slowly, with trembling fingers took off the two garments, and stood before us, with her head averted, and with streaming eyes; and as her chemise was cut rather low at the neck, I could see the division between her small, but well-rounded bubbies.
I had made her partly undress, because when a woman is “horsed” for a flogging with her dress and stays on, it 5s very difficult to get her petticoats turned up high enough to bare her bottom in a satisfactory way.
At one side of the room, there was a large pier glass, and opposite it there was a wardrobe with a long mirror; and it struck me that if I stood between the two articles of furniture, I should be able to see the whole of the girl’s body reflected in the looking-glass, and thus be able actually to witness the flogging.
“Now, Annette, I am going to take you on my back and hold you, while Madame flogs you.” So saying, I went to the sobbing girl, who trembled and shrunk away from me, but made no attempt at resistance. Seizing one of her wrists in each of my hands, I drew her arms over my shoulders, and then stooping forward, raised her feet well off the floor, “horsing” her in proper style without any difficulty, for I am six feet in height, and though she was tall, she was not heavy.
“Now, Frances,” I said, “the girl will be sure to kick and struggle when she feels the strap, so you must pin up her petticoats, so that they will not’ fall down in the middle of the punishment.”
Frances rolled the culprit’s petticoats, which were white and clean, up to her shoulders, and pinned the garments securely. She wore her chemise under her drawers, which were tightly stretched over her bottom by the curved position of her body; and as I was between the two mirrors, I could see everything perfectly.
As Frances was untying the girl’s drawers, she sobbed out: “Oh, madame, don’t take down my drawers!” The drawers were untied, and pulled down to her knees. Then she made another appeal: “Oh, please leave my chemise. Do not strip me quite bare.”
The chemise was rolled up and pinned to the petticoats, leaving the girl naked from the middle of her back to the tops of her stockings; and as she felt her last garment removed, she uttered a low wailing cry of shame.
She had a small, but well-shaped bottom, slender thighs, and slim legs, cased in tight, clean white cotton stockings, gartered at the middle of the thighs with black ribbons; her ankles were trim, and she was wearing neat, well-polished shoes. Her olive-tinted skin was very smooth, and it appeared to be fine in texture.
Everything being ready, I told the weeping culprit, who was shivering with shame and fear, that she must try and bear her punishment with fortitude; and not attract attention by making an outcry.
Frances took the strap and twisted part of it round her hand, leaving a length of about eighteen inches to flog with.
“Now, Frances,” I said, “give her a couple of dozen strokes, and lay them on smartly, but not too severely. Begin at the upper part of her bottom and flog down to her thighs, then up again to her loins. Keep cool, and don’t cross the cuts.”
Frances whirled the strap in the air, and as I looked in the glass in front of me, I could plainly see the girl’s eyes dilate with fear, and I also noticed the cheeks of her bottom contract, and the smooth skin assumed a rough appearance. Crack! The long piece of leather fell smartly across the girl’s bottom, and both the olive-tinted cheeks were instantly marked the a long red stripe, the exact breath of the strap; the stinging pain making the culprit start convulsively on my back, and utter a stifled cry. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Frances swung the strap with a graceful sweep of her arm, and as skillfully as if she had been a practised flogger; laying on the strokes the equal force, in slow time, one below the other, — so that the red stripes were printed on Annette’s skin at almost regular distances apart. She plunged and wriggled, whimpered and sobbed; and I could feel her body quiver, and shrink against my back each time the stinging strap struck her bottom.
I had never before “horsed” a girl; therefore k was a novel sensation, and a pleasing one, to fed her bosom and belly rubbing against my back, and the front part of her thighs rubbing my bottom, as she writhed in pain. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! She bounced about, twisting her hips from side to side; her flesh twitched at each stroke; she turned her head and looked over her shoulder, with an agonized expression on her face, at the strap as it hissed in the air over her bottom, and she gasped and cried, the tears running in streams down her scarlet cheeks. By this time, Frances had flogged down to the culprit’s thighs, so that the whole of her bottom was prettily marked with alternate red and white stripes.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Frances was now flogging upwards. The sharp noise made by the strap as it struck the girl’s firm flesh, echoed through the room; she kicked up her heels in pain, struggling hard to free her wrists from my grasp, and though she did not scream, she moaned, and cried piteously, gasping out in choking accents: “Oh, madame! — madame! Oh, chere madame! pas-si-fort! Oh, — pas-si-fort! Oh-madame! Ayez pitie! J’en-ai-assez! Oh! — Oh-h!”
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Her moans changed to low, suppressed shrieks, and she threw her legs about so frantically that her drawers fell off, and in her writhes and plunges, I caught glimpses of the black hair in the cleft of her thighs; her struggles becoming so violent that I had some difficulty in holding her in position.
Crack! Crack! Frances laid on the last two strokes with a little extra force, extracting from the culprit two rather loud squeals; and now that the flogging was over, the whole surface of her bottom, from the loins to the thighs, was a bright scarlet colour, as the stripes had overlapped.
Frances threw down the strap, and stood for a moment looking with an amused smile at the marks of her handiwork; then she unpinned the girl’s petticoats and let them fall. I released her wrists, and she stood on the floor, crying, and twisting her loins with the smarting pain of her well-whipped bottom. Her face was red, and she looked very much ashamed.
“Now, Annette, it is all over. You may go,” I said.
She picked up her drawers, and turning aside, drew them over her legs, and tied the strings round her waist; then she put on her stays and dress, whimpering, sobbing, and wiping her streaming eyes with her apron; then she put her cap straight, and hurried out of the room.
The flogging of the girl had afforded me great pleasure; as the whole affair had been so unexpected, and also so much out of the common. I was very randy, and as a matter of course, had a tremendous cockstand.
I looked at Frances, who had evidently enjoyed the task; her eyes were bright, and she was smiling. “Well, are yon satisfied now?” I asked, laughing, and pinching her ear.
“Oh, yes! And I must say that whipping a bottom is exciting work. I can quite understand why you are so fond of doing it.” Then, fixing her eyes on the flap of my trousers, which bulged out considerably, she laughed, saying: “I can see that you are much affected by what has taken place, so I suppose I shall now get a taste of the ‘rod.’ But you must take care not to rumple my frock, as it is a new one.”
“All right, I won’t ruffle your plumage,” I said, laughing.
Making her lean over the back of an easy-chair, I raised her dainty skirt and carefully folded it over the middle of her back; then I tucked up her petticoats, and opened the slit of her drawers, so that the plump, white cheeks of her bottom were framed in the fine linen, which was scarcely whiter than her smooth skin. I began to poke her “en levrette,” but I was so excited that I “spent” almost immediately. However, as my prick remained quite stiff, I did not withdraw it, but went to work again, and after a prolonged and most delicious struggle, during which I was well backed up by Frances, I discharged for the second time a torrent of hot spend. She almost swooned from excess of voluptuous pleasure, her legs gave way under her, and she would have fallen had I not held her up. But her clothes were not ruffled!
I got her a glass of wine, and she was soon as lively as ever; and when we had had a “wash and brush up,” we went quietly off to Versailles, where we spent the day as we had originally intended.
Annette must have got herself transferred to another part of the establishment; for we never saw her again, and during the remainder of our stay, we were attended by another chambermaid.
We remained in Paris for a fortnight longer, bat had no more adventures worth recording. Then we returned to London; Frances being very much pleased with her first trip abroad, and looking all the better for it I left her at the villa, and then went down to Oakhurst.