“The Frenchman ... reeled back across the table.”
“You are a coward,” she said quickly.
He shrugged his shoulders.
“There is no cowardice in love. Do not agitate yourself, my dear. I will give you time to think it over. You shall tell me to-night. To-day they want me at the barracks; but I am coming back by-and-by, and if you do not wish to be my friend, we shall go to the Rue—ah, no names, Madame, no names yet—”
He rose also, for he thought that she was about to faint. The touch of his hand seemed to burn her wrist. She uttered a loud cry, and strove to release herself.
“Do not make a scene, Madame; and remember, I must have your answer to-night.”
She had no voice to respond; but another, a man who crossed the road quickly when he heard her cry, answered for her.
“Take that, and be damned to you,” he said.
The Frenchman, struck heavily upon the face, reeled back across the table. But Beatrix fell sobbing into the arms of Richard Watts.