“I do not like your name, sir,” she answered.

“ ‘There was no thought of pleasing you when I was christened,’ ” he quoted lazily.

“Hardly, sir,” she said. “You might be my father.”

It was a master stroke, and for an instant his brows drew together. Then he laughed.

“ Merci du compliment, mademoiselle! I admire your wit.”

“I protest I am overwhelmed. May I ask when we are like to arrive at our destination?”

“We should reach Andover soon after eight, my dear.”

So it was some distance he was taking her?

“I suppose you had the wit to provide food for the journey?” she yawned. “You will not wish to exhibit me at an inn, I take it?”