“Ah!” said Mont; “but when you get in, you see, I shan't see you any more to-day. Fini, as the French girl said when she jumped on her bed after saying her prayers. Don't you bless the day that gave you a French mother, and a name like yours?”
“I like my name, but Father gave it me. Mother wanted me called Marguerite.”
“Which is absurd. Do you mind calling me M. M. and letting me call you F. F.? It's in the spirit of the age.”
“I don't mind anything, so long as I get in.”
Mont caught a little crab, and answered: “That was a nasty one!”
“Please row.”
“I am.” And he did for several strokes, looking at her with rueful eagerness. “Of course, you know,” he ejaculated, pausing, “that I came to see you, not your father's pictures.”
Fleur rose.
“If you don't row, I shall get out and swim.”
“Really and truly? Then I could come in after you.”