Her hands closed tightly for a second upon his. "You are pleased,
Bertie?" she said, with a quickening of the breath.
He straightened himself instantly; he looked into her eyes. "But you are happy, yes?" he questioned.
"Of course," she told him hurriedly.
He smiled—the ready smile with which he had learned to mask his soul. "Alors, I am pleased," he said.
He helped her into the carriage, and turned, still smiling, to the man behind her. Yet he flinched ever so slightly from the grip of Mordaunt's hand. It was the merest gesture, scarcely perceptible; in a moment he had covered it with the quick courtesy of his race. But Mordaunt was aware of it, and for a single instant he wondered.
He took his place beside his bride, who tucked her hand inside his arm, with a little sob of sheer relief.
"Did I sound very squeaky, Trevor? I tried not to squeak."
He forgot Bertrand and everyone else but the trembling girl by his side.
He laid a soothing hand on hers.
"My dear, you did splendidly. It wasn't so very terrifying, was it?"
"It was appalling," said Chris. "I kept saying to myself, 'Just a little longer and then that lovely new motor—my motor—and home.' You are going to give me my first lesson in driving to-day, aren't you? Say yes!"