"Who will ask you?"
"Papa, of course."
"Ah, yes, he is very kind. What will you say to him?"
Riette looked hard at her and shrugged her slight shoulders.
"I must go," she said. "Kiss me again, ma belle."
"Stop!" Hélène held her tight, with her hands on her shoulders. "Do you often see—your cousin—Angelot?"
Riette's face rippled with laughter. "Every day—nearly every hour."
"Why do you laugh?"
"How can I tell? It is my fault, my own wickedness," said Riette, penitently. "Why indeed should I laugh, when you look sad and ill? Can I say any little word to Angelot, ma cousine?"
"Tell him I must see him—I must speak to him. Tell him to fix the place and the hour."