He held her to him in complete surprise, and laid his cheek upon her hair.
“Cricket,” he said softly, “little old crickety-Cricket! Good-bye for what?”
She started back and looked up at him.
“You! You!” she cried. “Oh! But I thought you were——”
“Not Percy!” he exploded.
But she ran away fast, through the garden, and he heard her laughter.
This was the memory that Isabelle carried with her on the way home. It was sweet and warm. She was content with it for a while.
Wally met them at the pier. It was plain that he was excited. After hasty greetings, he turned to his daughter.
“Who in thunder is this Frenchman you’re engaged to?”