“George Pickering.”
“Ah. He walked down the garden with Kitty Thwaites.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes. When I get in I can tell Miss Walker and Françoise all about it. They will be so excited. There will be no fuss about me being out. V’là la bonne fortune!”
“Speak English, please.”
“Well, it is good luck I was there. I can make up such a story.”
“Good luck that a poor fellow should be stabbed!”
“That wasn’t my fault, was it? Good-night, Martin. You fought beautifully. Kiss me!”
“I won’t kiss you. Run in, now. I’ll wait till the door opens.”
“Then I’ll kiss you. There! I like you better than all the world—just now.”