“Shall I help you?”
“No, thanks. I’ll see you this evening.”
Raymond turned and watched her as she walked briskly off.
“She’s not very amiable,” he was thinking. “She’s always so reserved with me.”
But he followed her with his eyes until she was out of sight.
Margaret, pursuing her futile search, was accosted before the Cathedral by a young friend, Jeanne Sassenay, who was passing with her maid. She was a little girl of sixteen or seventeen years, young for her age, with blonde braids down her back, and a quite pretty mobile little face. She fell upon Miss Roquevillard, whom she admired very much.
“Miss Margaret, you are in a great hurry,” she cried.
“Good-day, Jeanne.”
“You’re copying your brother, who passed me in the street without saying a word. I’m old enough to be bowed to just the same.”
And lowering her head a little, she gave a downward glance, as if to lengthen the bottom of her skirt.