“He seems to be well occupied at the moment,” he commented. “Suppose—would you allow me to act as coach instead?”
She hesitated. This stranger appeared to be uncompromisingly progressive in his tendencies.
“I’m perfectly capable,” he added curtly.
“I’m sure of that. But——”
His eyes twinkled. “But it would not be quite comme il faut? Is that it?”
“Well, it wouldn’t, would it?” she retaliated.
His face grew suddenly grave, and she noticed that when in repose there were deep, straight lines on either side of his mouth—lines that are usually only furrowed by severe suffering, either mental or physical.
“Mademoiselle,” he said quietly. “To-day, it seems, we are two very lonely people. Couldn’t we forget what is comme il faut for once? We shall probably never meet again. We know nothing of each other—just ‘ships that pass in the night.’ Let us keep one another company—take this one day together.”
He drew a step nearer to her.
“Will you?” he said. “Will you?”