He turned.
The girl was offering him part of her umbrella.
“O c'est un Americain!” she said again, still speaking as if to herself.
“Mais ca ne vaut pas la peine.”
“Mais oui, mais oui.”
He stepped under the umbrella beside her.
“But you must let me hold it.”
“Bien.”
As he took the umbrella he caught her eye. He stopped still in his tracks.
“But you're the girl at the Rat qui Danse.”