"Obviously, monsieur is in the business?"
"I am," replied Quinney, "and, by Gum, I thought I knew my business till I met you."
Le Marchant acted as interpreter. The three returned to Treguier and breakfasted upon the small terrace overlooking the Jaudy. Quinney was in the highest spirits. But to Susan's dismay, he talked of returning to England and finishing their honeymoon in a country where a man could make himself understood. What about Weymouth? What price nice sands? He assured Le Marchant that his Susan liked paddling, because she could show a neat pair of ankles. Also they could nip over to Dorchester. Rare place that for old stuff! Inevitably he returned to his business with an enthusiasm which indicated that he found it more engrossing than ordinary honeymooning. Susan listened with a tiny wrinkle between her smooth brows. When Quinney rushed upstairs to fill his pouch with English tobacco, Le Marchant said thoughtfully:
"Wonderfully keen, isn't he?"
The swiftness of her answer surprised him.
"Do you think he's too keen?"
He evaded the eager question.
"As for that, Mrs. Quinney, one can hardly be too keen in business nowadays."
"I meant—is he too keen for his own happiness?"
He hesitated. On the morrow he would go his way, and, humanly speaking, there was little probability of his meeting this particular couple again. He wondered vaguely what the future held for them. Then he shrugged his shoulders and laughed.