She arose precipitately, and stood looking out of the window, while the Doctor attended to the sprain.
Nearly half an hour passed. The ankle was duly bathed and bandaged, then old Jacques and the Doctor went away, and she came over and looked laughingly down at the invalid, a world of coquettish daring in her dancing eyes.
"Well, M. Reinecourt, when does M. le Médecin say you are going to die?"
"When you think of leaving me, Mademoiselle."
"Then summon your friends at once, for I not only think of it, but am about to do it."
"Oh, not so soon."
"It is half-past two, Monsieur," pulling out her watch; "they will think I am lost at home. I must go!"
"Well, shake hands before you go."
"It seems to me you are very fond of shaking hands, Mr. Reinecourt," said Rose, giving him hers willingly enough, though.
"And you really must leave me?"