“Sketched! I never saw you sketch. If you’ll buy me a parasol to match my sash, I’ll sit beside you to-day and watch you.”
On the bridge he set to work upon a water-color of the Rhone as it flowed past Villeneuve. She was going over his drawings. Suddenly she stopped. She had come across three of the same person. Just then the orange-bus lumbered by; again the girl laughed at him.
“Look here, Meester Deek, you’ve got to tell me everything that you did when I wasn’t with you.”
He was too absorbed in his work to notice what had provoked her curiosity. When he came to the account of his bathing, she interrupted him. “I want to see you bathe.”
“All right, presently.”
“No. Now.”
He rather liked her childish way of ordering him. He spoke lazily. “I don’t mind, if you’ll take care of—— I say, this is like Long Beach, isn’t it? You made me bathe there. But promise you won’t slip off while I’m gone.”
“Honest Injun, I promise.”
He had climbed to the roof of the bathing-house and was straightening himself for the plunge, when he heard the creaking of the bus approaching. He looked up. The bus-girl had alighted and was leaning down from the bridge, waving to him. Before diving, he waved back. When he had climbed to the roof again, he searched round for Desire. She was nowhere to be found.
He dressed quickly. At the hotel he was informed that she was packing. He called up to her window from the courtyard. She came out on to the balcony.