"Hello, Jean!"
"Henri, mon ami!"
Recalled partially to his senses, Jean embraced his old friend after the effusive, dramatic French fashion. They kissed each other's cheeks, as if they were brothers who had been long parted.
"We will begin again, Henri," said Jean,—"from this moment we will begin again. Forgive me——"
"There!" cried Henri, "let us not go into that. We have both of us need of forgiveness,—I most of all. As you say, let us begin again. And in making a good start, permit me to present you to my sister Andrée, whom you have met before, and, I have reason to believe, wish to meet again. I have brought her along without consulting you, first because she insists on going where I go, next as an evidence of good faith and a pledge of our future good-will. Mademoiselle Remy, mon cher ami."
"No apology is necessary for bringing in the sunshine with you, mon ami," said Jean, bending over the small hand.
"Monsieur Marot is complimentary," said Mlle. Remy.
For a moment her eyes drooped beneath his ardent gaze.
"But, then, I know him so well," she quickly added, recovering her well-bred self-possession,—"yes, brother Henri has often talked about you, and I have seen you——"
There was a faint self-consciousness apparent here. And he knew that she was thinking of his lonely watches in front of her place of residence.