"My passion for cleanliness," Henri said blithely, "is the result of my English school days. You would have been the better for an English education, Jean."
"A canal in March!" Jean grunted. "You will end badly."
Henri looked longingly at the water.
"Had I a dry towel," he said, "I would go in again."
Jean looked at him with his one eye.
"You would be prettier without those scars," he observed. But in his heart he prayed that there might be no others added to them, that nothing might mar or destroy that bright and youthful body.
"Dépêchez-vous! Vous sommes pressés!" he added.
But Henri was minded to play. He girded himself with the towel and struck an attitude.
"The Russian ballet, Jean!" he said, and capering madly sent Jean into deep grumbles of laughter by his burlesque.
"I must have exercise," Henri said at last when, breathless and with flying hair, he began to dress. "That, too, is my English schooling. If you, Jean—"