"On the contrary. I have found him extremely attentive," retorted mademoiselle, veering again.
But at this stage Heathcote entered, and Anne's hope that he had left them was dashed to the ground. He noted the situation; and then he asked mademoiselle if she would not join him in the other seat for a while. The flattered Frenchwoman consented, and as he followed her he gave Anne a glance which said, "Check." And Anne felt that it was "check" indeed.
He had no intention of troubling her; he would give her time to grow tired.
But she was tired already.
At last, however, he did come. They were in plain sight now, people were sitting behind them; she could not childishly refuse to let him take the vacant place beside her. But at least, she thought, his words must be guarded, or people behind would make out what he said, even from the motion of his lips.
But Heathcote never cared for people.
"Dear," he said, bending toward her, "I am so glad to be with you again!" After all, he had managed to place himself so that by supporting his cheek with his hand, the people behind could not see his face at all, much less make out what he said.
Anne did not reply.
"Won't you even look at me? I must content myself, then, with your profile."
"You are ungenerous," she answered, in a tone as low as his own. "It will end in my feeling a contempt for you."