“Why, of course!” said Gilberte, all confusion.
“Then why do I look like a prisoner being judged?”
“Oh, but you don’t!”
“Yes, I do. It’s all very well for you to bend your head and all very well for me to rave and yell: any one would think that I was to blame and that you were making allowances. You must admit, it is enough to make one lose all patience.”
Presumably, Mme. de la Vaudraye was afraid of growing still more impatient, for she went away without another word.
Gilberte called on her, next day, and kissed her affectionately. There was not a word said about their difference of the day before.
They saw each other every day. According to the weather, they walked in the town or walked about the neighbourhood, leaning on each other’s arm and heedless of any but themselves. But they invariably returned at the same hour.
“Ah, it’s five o’clock: here are the ladies coming back!” people said.
This regularity was due to Gilberte. As soon as she was free, she went to the ruined summer-house and sat there until dinnertime.
“But why this hurry?” asked Mme. de la Vaudraye. “You never give me a minute over.”