"Well met!" he cried. "Socrates told me you were not coming home till much later."
"But where have you been?" she asked. "I imagined you were at Madame Pitou's ages ago."
"As though you couldn't tell by my swollen appearance that I had supped on white wheat and fatted fowl," he rejoined. "Of course I was there. I've been escorting Peridot home. He took an extra appetizer on an empty stomach, and it upset him. How are the patients?"
"Dr. Garnier has set the broken arm and bandaged the sprain. He gave Mrs. Carmac a stiff dose of bromide, and she is asleep. She will recover if her nervous system withstands the shock."
"It was an extraordinary misfortune that the owner of the yacht should be the one to have his head battered in. His wife realizes now that he is dead, I suppose?"
"Yes, she knows."
They crossed the square together. To reach the Rue Mathias they had to go round by the bridge and return by the right bank of the Aven. The hour was not late, and many of the inhabitants were astir; but none gave heed to the unusual spectacle of a Breton girl and a young man walking in company, because both were recognized instantly, and in such matters the American and English residents were a law unto themselves. Had they been bred and born in the place, such a thing simply could not have happened.
Somehow Tollemache felt a restraint that night that was both novel and unpleasing. A barrier of some sort had been erected between Yvonne and himself. He cudgeled his wits to find words that would break down the obstacle, whatsoever it might be.
"We've had a lively evening at Madame's thus far," he said. "Riec and Nevez shared the honors in the gavotte; but everybody agreed that Pont Aven would have scored if you had been there."
"I couldn't have danced tonight, Lorry, on any account."