David Hale shook his head.
“No, I am not accomplishing everything I wish to accomplish.” Then apparently without any connection with his former remark, he suddenly added:
“I wonder if you would mind telling me how old you are?”
Bettina colored slightly.
“I am eighteen. Is that old enough to begin hiding one’s age? I wonder why you wish to know at present?”
“[Can’t you guess at least something of my reason?] Perhaps I shall not wait to come to see you first in Washington. When the Peace Conference is ended I too shall have earned a holiday in England!”
Bettina had been looking for the past few moments down upon a bed of white fleur-de-lis, which were just opening into snow white blooms. Now she moved away a few steps.
“Suppose we go now and join the others. They may grow weary of waiting. Mrs. Burton will be interested to know we may see you again in England. But I shall always remember our meeting in this little garden. Thank you for bringing me here again now that the winter cold has gone and the early flowers are in bloom!”
At this moment the old French gardener, appearing in the path before Bettina and David, with a low bow presented Bettina with a bouquet.
Afterwards, as she came toward them, Mrs. Burton observed Marguerite Arnot’s eyes travel from Bettina’s flowers to a long study of the other girl’s face.