"Of course I do," returned Chris vigorously. "I always have. I may come then?"
"But certainly."
"When?"
"When you will, mademoiselle."
Chris considered. They had reached the firm sand, and she stood still. "I can't come to-morrow because of my foot, and the day after the tide will be too late. I shall have to wait nearly a fortnight. How dull!"
"In a fortnight, then!" said the Frenchman.
"In a fortnight, preux chevalier!" Her eyes laughed up at him. "But I dare say we shall meet before then. I hope we shall."
"I hope it also, mademoiselle." He bowed courteously.
She held out her hand. "I shall come on the tenth of the month—it's my birthday. I'll bring some cakes, and we'll have a party, and invite the dragon." Her eyes danced. "We will have some fun, shall we?"
"I think that we shall not want the dragon," he smiled back.