And at the other's nod, she went on. "How lovely that we are expecting the same vessel. Oh, I am sure it will come to-day—or certainly to-morrow."
The two girls felt themselves very close together, now that they had shared so much of their secret; and it made the waiting less hard to bear.
"Is he handsome, your man?" asked Suzanne, timidly.
"Ravishing," replied Zabette, eagerly. "And yours?"
Suzanne sighed with adoration. "Beyond words," was her reply—and the girls exchanged another of those pressures of the hand which mean so much where love is concerned. "He has the most beautiful moustache in the world."
"Oh, no," protested Zabette, smilingly. "Mine has a more beautiful one yet, and such crisp curly hair, and dark eyes."
Her companion suddenly looked at her. "Large eyes or small?" she asked in a strange voice.
"Oh," replied Zabette, doubtfully. "Not too large. I would not fancy ox eyes in a man."
Suzanne freed herself and stood facing her with a flash of hatred in her mild face which Zabette could not understand.