“Yes, to ask it at such a time when, after being placed in post after post by my father’s help, and losing them one by one by your folly, you—”
“Oh, come, that will do,” cried the young man angrily; “if it’s to be like this it’s a good job that we came to an explanation at once. So this is gentle, amiable, sweet-tempered Madelaine, eh! Hallo! You?”
He turned sharply, for during the latter part of the conversation they had been standing still, and Louise and Pradelle had come over a stretch of sand with their footsteps inaudible.
“It is quite time we returned, Madelaine,” said Louise gravely; and without another word the two girls walked away.
“’Pon my word,” cried Harry with a laugh, “things are improving. Well, Vic, how did you get on?”
“How did I get on indeed!” cried Pradelle angrily. “Look here, Harry Vine, are you playing square with me?”
“What do you mean?”
“What I say; are you honest, or have you been setting her against me?”
“Why you—no, I won’t quarrel,” cried Harry.
“What did she say to you?”