“Comment ça va?” he inquired, standing bareheaded before her.
Certainly she had not expected French from Bill, but she politely suppressed her surprise and answered cheerfully:
“Tres bien, merci, monsieur! I was just wondering if there were any wild flowers growing about here?”
She looked up at him, but hastily glanced aside, for Bill was looking down at her with a smile which disconcerted her.
“Flowers, eh?” he said.
They were both silent for a time. Then Rose began, in a somewhat formal tone:
“My sister and I are both very grateful for—”
A crash interrupted her.
“What’s that?” asked Bill.
“It sounds like my shelf,” she replied, ruefully.