She uttered it with a soft sigh that was quite charming and touched him.
“Ah, you know that!” with fervor.
“But I like to hear you say it,” pleadingly.
“I love you very much.” He bent over and kissed the crown of her head, adding, “Then you will not go?”
“Stay with me,” she entreated. “You haven’t told me half the story of the boat coming in this morning.”
There was a light, youthful step on the floor.
“Ah, André!” Denys said, turning. “Come and tell this girl the welcomes that filled the air this morning, the finding of the castaways and all. You were there, and she can have it first-hand. Meanwhile, I will run down to the Renauds’ and see if Madame Gardepier is any the worse for her journey.”
Renée could have cried out with vexation. Denys did not even stop to light his pipe.
“Let us go in the garden, ma’m’selle. It is so beautiful in the starlight, and the air is fragrant with a hundred sweet scents. I wish you could have had the sail last night. It was the kind of thing to fill one’s soul with rapture.”
“I am tired!” she cried pettishly. “That was why I refused to go with uncle. And I don’t care so much about the rescue. People are crazy, as if nothing ever happened in St. Louis before. And my head aches. I believe I will go to bed.”