The man was abreast of them now, and looked very hard at both as he passed, but did not stop, and Barbara heaved a long sigh of relief.
"I'm so very sorry," she said at last. "Please understand I am not in the habit of leaping down beside people like that, only I've had this watch and chain such a very short time, and I was so afraid he'd take them."
"And how do you know that they will be any safer with me?" he asked, with a wicked twinkle in his eyes.
"Because I saw you were an Englishman, of course," she rejoined calmly.
The young man laughed.
"Pardon me, you are wrong, for I am an American."
Barbara's cheeks could hardly grow more flushed, but she felt uncomfortably hot.
"I am so sorry," she stammered, getting up hurriedly; "I really thought it was an Englishman, and felt—at home, you know."
"Please continue to think so if it makes you any happier; and—I think you had better stay a little longer before going on—the fellow might be waiting farther down the road."
Barbara subsided again. She had no desire to have any further encounter with the French cyclist.