But if he, Denys, had married, as he had once dreamed! Then he would have given up the wild life long ago. Then there would have been home and love.
“O Uncle Gaspard,” Renée cried, “you squeeze my hand so tight. And you walk so fast.”
He paused suddenly and gazed down in the flushed face, the eyes humid under their curling lashes.
“My little dear!” and his heart smote him. “Let us sit down here in the shade of this clump of trees and rest. You see, I never had a little girl before, and forgot that she could not stride with my long legs.”
“And I am so thirsty.”
He glanced about. “We are only going a little farther,” he said, “and then we shall find a splendid spring and something to eat. Are you very tired?”
She drew a long breath and held up her little red hand.
“Poor hand!” he said tenderly, pressing it to his lips. “Poor little hand!”
She leaned her head down on his shoulder.
“You wouldn’t like to have me go away?” she murmured plaintively.