Then she armed herself and struck me a savage blow.
“No,” she answered quickly; “I think fortune will hold you to your promise and that you will soon forget to rail at her. Your heart is exceedingly inflammable and will burn none the less ardently, whether it be I or your betrothed who applies the spark.”
“If that is your opinion,” I returned bitterly, “there is nothing more to be said.”
“And I am quite certain,” she added, smiling strangely, “that you will one day accept that invitation. My father will insist upon it.”
“Let him!” I retorted. “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Nor I. This hamper, then, we will leave here, as we shall reach Coulanges to-night. It is time we were setting off.”
She arose without a word and followed me down the slope. Only, when at last I glanced back, did I perceive that she was bearing the hamper.
“Why are you bringing that?” I demanded, wheeling sharp around.
“Food is not plentiful enough in France to be wasted in that way,” she answered evenly.