[CHAPTER XV]
FROM OVER THE WATER
LUCILLE, turning to go, made a little sign to Roy to follow her. Ivor opened the door, moving mechanically, as if his mind were far-away; and Roy, with a show of reluctance, went in her rear.
"But, Mademoiselle, I want to know about them all at home. Molly most! And Den can tell me."
"Yes; soon. But would you not leave Monsieur to read his letter in peace? Would not that be kind?"
"Are you more sorry for Den than for the rest of us?" demanded Roy, his frank grey eyes looking Lucille in the face somewhat laughingly. The question took her by surprise; and afterwards she recurred to it, wondering at the boy's unconscious penetration. At the moment she met his glance readily enough.
"I do not know. I am sorry for you all. But Captain Ivor—yes, perhaps most. He is more changed by his imprisonment than any. Cannot you perceive? Mais non—you are a boy—you do not look."
"I do, though," protested the injured Roy. "But I can't see that Den is changed—not a scrap. What do you mean? He's the best old fellow that ever lived—just as he always was, you know."
"Old!" repeated Lucille, with a lifting of her eyebrows.
"O that's only—that means nothing. At least, it means that I like him better than anybody else—except Molly. No, he isn't old really, of course,—he was twenty-five last birthday." Roy laughed to himself.