“This is my last day here,” he remarked with sudden irrelevance. “I am off first thing to-morrow morning.”
“You’re not stopping at the hotel, are you?”
He shook his head.
“No. I’m staying at a friend’s chalet a little way beyond it. Mais, voyons, mademoiselle, you will catch cold sitting there. Are you too frightened to try the ice again?”
He seemed to assume that her next essay would be made in his company. Jean spoke a little hurriedly.
“Oh, no, I was supposed to have a lesson with Monsieur Griolet this morning. He is an instructor,” she explained. “But he was engaged coaching someone else when I came out.”
“And which is this Monsieur Griolet? Can you see him?”
Jean’s glance ranged over the scattered figures on the rink.
“Yes. There he is.”
His eyes followed the direction indicated.