“Matter enough. I am divided in two. I have just had an offer—command, I might say. And whether I am to take it—” looking up with uncertainty.
“Beating about a bush doesn’t always thresh off nuts. There is the right season,” and a glint of humor crossed the elder’s face. “Is there a pretty girl in it?”
Was the world running after pretty girls? Renée frowned.
“You would not like me to go away, ma’m’selle?”
A sudden hope had rendered him incautious.
“It makes no difference to me,” she replied coldly.
“What is it all about?” inquired Denys. “Where were you last night, that you are so incoherent this morning?”
“In the counting house with M’sieu Pierre Chouteau. In about ten days he starts for New Orleans, and must take some one with him. He proposes the post to me.”
Denys gave a side glance at Renée. Her face was cold, impenetrable. Clearly she was not in love, much as she liked André.
“Come in the shop!” exclaimed Denys.