"I heard your voice," he said, looking up into her face. "I stood and listened, and then—I wanted to see the owner of the voice, and I climbed to the top of the wall and then—I fell."
"I thought only schoolboys behaved so," she said, but her pretty lips parted and her eyes smiled, in spite of herself.
"If I had been a schoolboy I should not have fallen."
"Why?"
"Because a schoolboy does not lose his head as I did, mademoiselle."
"And your footing, monsieur."
"The one was an outcome of the other."
She looked away across the sweet, smiling sunshine.
"Monsieur"—suddenly bending her gaze upon his face—"how came you to lose your head?"
He glanced at her in swift surprise. He was no chicken-heart, yet something in the proud little face made him hesitate.