“Well, I’ve been pretty busy during the last week,” I answered.
She jumped up at the sound of my voice and turned to me a face pale for a fleeting second and then flushing with the glory of rich, deep crimson.
“Bourgwan!”
“Yes, Mademoiselle, Bourgwan, no other;” and I stretched my hands to her.
She held hers back and tried to look indignant.
“What does this mean?”
“You must blame Petrosch. He’s the villain of the piece.”
Despite her efforts her eyes smiled.
“This is a conspiracy, then,” she cried.
“That’s about the size of it. They’ve been pretty plentiful lately, you see.”