“Monsieur Giles has disowned the essential,” she remarked.
“Do you like him, Giles?” Alix questioned when, after breakfast, she moved off with her friend to the cliff-path.
Giles really felt a little abashed before her calm; felt that he deserved, rather than monsieur de Valenbois, madame Vervier’s implicit reproof.
“Monsieur de Valenbois?” he questioned. “Very much. Don’t you? I think him charming.”
“Charming,” Alix reflected.
“Have you known him for a long time?” Giles inquired.
“A long time? I?” Alix’s eyes came back to him surprised. “I never saw him before.”
“Really. He’s a new friend of your mother’s, then.”
“Yes. They met at Cannes last winter,” said Alix. “Charming. He is that, I suppose; but I think it a little agaçant for anyone to look so sure of happiness.”
“Sure of happiness? You think he looks that?”