Determining at once that her friend should not die, she forgot, in the
institution of a campaign against Death, much of her own trouble.
Old Jolyon watched the new intimacy with relief and disapproval; for
this additional proof that her life was to be passed amongst 'lame
ducks' worried him. Would she never make a friendship or take an
interest in something that would be of real benefit to her?
'Taking up with a parcel of foreigners,' he called it. He often,
however, brought home grapes or roses, and presented them to 'Mam'zelle'
with an ingratiating twinkle.
Towards the end of September, in spite of June's disapproval,
Mademoiselle Vigor breathed her last in the little hotel at St. Luc, to
which they had moved her; and June took her defeat so deeply to heart
that old Jolyon carried her away to Paris. Here, in contemplation of the
'Venus de Milo' and the 'Madeleine,' she shook off her depression,
and when, towards the middle of October, they returned to town, her
grandfather believed that he had effected a cure.
No sooner, however, had they established themselves in Stanhope Gate
than he perceived to his dismay a return of her old absorbed and
brooding manner. She would sit, staring in front of her, her chin on her
hand, like a little Norse spirit, grim and intent, while all around in
the electric light, then just installed, shone the great, drawing-room
brocaded up to the frieze, full of furniture from Baple and Pullbred's.
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