"Thank you, Cousin Adolf," she said eagerly. "I'll hurry right back; I'll be here by ten minutes past three."
He eyed her keenly. "You needn't trouble to come back, I'll go to the church with you."
"And wait there?" she asked with a shade of disappointment.
"Yes," he answered briefly.
There was nothing more to say, and a few minutes later Alice, anxious-eyed but altogether lovely in flower-spread hat and a fleecy pink gown, entered Notre-Dame followed by the wood carver.
"Will you wait here, cousin, by my little table?" she asked sweetly.
"You seem anxious to get rid of me," he smiled.
"No, no," she protested, but her cheeks flushed; "I only thought this chair would be more comfortable."
"Any chair will do for me," he said dryly. "Where is your confessional?"
"On the other side," and she led the way down the right aisle, past various recessed chapels, past various confessional boxes, each bearing the name of the priest who officiated there. And presently as they came to a confessional box in the space near the sacristy Alice pointed to the name, "Father Anselm."