I did not pretend not to understand. "No, Jennie, I'm here alone."
"How did you know we were here?"
"I'm staying in Dinan for a few days. I saw you last night."
She lifted her head. Again their eyes sought one another's. There was something they were aching to communicate.
The room had two chairs, one a church chair with a rush bottom, the other a straight-backed piece of carved Breton work, but so old that its colour had become a dry dusty grey. He placed this chair for me, and sat down again on the corn-bin. He was softly kneading his brown hands, as I had formerly seen him do in Cambridge Circus. It is odd how these tricks cling to one.
Then, his face again transfigured with that undivulged joy they shared, he looked up at me. Jennie was back at her buttering again; apparently he was to do the telling. I noticed that at any rate he had not forgotten to buy her a ring. He caught my glance at it, and nodded joyously.
"That's it," he said.
Once before he had asked me to talk French to him. I now had a reason for speaking it unasked.
"Qu'est-ce que veut dire——" I said.
He laughed aloud.