Miss Waters had been watching them like a stage director.
“Sit down, Mr. Landry!” she said.
“I don’t like to interrupt Miss Humbert’s work....”
“Nonsense! She’s a very good pupil, you know, and she can afford to take a little holiday, now and then. And you’re going to stay and have a little lunch with us, aren’t you?”
He yielded, because he hadn’t the heart to do as he wished—to ask Rosaleen out to lunch and leave the poor old creature behind.
“I’ll have something nice and tasty ready in a jiffy!” she cried. “Rosaleen, you entertain Mr. Landry!”
They were left alone, Landry standing beside Rosaleen, both of them speechless. He looked stealthily down at her, at her light hair, at the soft colour in her cheeks, at her pretty childish throat rising from the open neck of her sailor blouse. And he bent down and kissed her cheek.
She didn’t look up; she bent lower over her work.
“Rosaleen!” he said. “You darling!”
“I’m awfully glad to see you!” she murmured. “I thought....”