“It only shows that at Clochegourde I forget everything,” I answered, simply.
“She is coming to meet you?”
“Yes.”
“At what hour?”
“Half-past eleven.”
“Where?”
“On the moor.”
“Do not deceive me; is it not at the walnut-tree?”
“On the moor.”
“We will go there,” she said, “and I shall see her.”