“Years and necessity,” he replied, after a momentary pause. “So my father told me. And I am sure that was what made him approve, for he thought it showed great strength of character. He did indeed, and it made me so proud.” Léon winced. Naturally it was galling to M. de Beaudrillart to hear of the approval of M. Bourget. She went on, her head with its wealth of red-brown hair resting against his shoulder, her eyes fixed on the big scarlet pomegranate which flamed on the terrace.
“But—there is one thing I want to say.”
“And while you stay like this I am perfectly content to listen all day long.”
“Ah, but you must be serious.”
“I am. Look at me.”
She looked, and he kissed her. “Now, go on. That is only the preamble.”
“It is rather distracting when one wants to collect one’s ideas,” said Nathalie, smiling, but shaking her head. “However, what I want to say is that I hope you will let me help you in what you have to do.”
“You are helping me now—to perfection.”
“You know that is not what I mean. For one thing, I am really an excellent house-keeper, for my father was very strict in his accounts, and never permitted waste.”
“Poor little economist!” said the young man, lightly smoothing her head. “My Nathalie, are you aware that the colour of your hair is simply adorable?”