They had reached the bank of the little river: the punt was drawn up among the rushes; they seated themselves without pushing off.
"Over beyond the woods, yonder," he continued, nodding his head, "is the Château des Oiseaux—a big, old-fashioned country house. A friend of many years lives there with her younger sister—Madame de Moidrey, the widow of a French officer. When she was Ethra Brooks, a little American girl, we were playmates. Her sister, Peggy, attends my painting class. After Mr. Halkett left, I walked across to the Château des Oiseaux, and I lunched there with Madame de Moidrey."
He hesitated: the girl looked up out of clear eyes that read him.
"Yes; I want you to walk over to the Château with me," he said. "Madame de Moidrey has asked me to bring you.... And if she likes you, and you like her, she might desire to have you remain as her companion."
The girl remained silent, expressionless. He went on, slowly:
"It would not be like securing employment among strangers. Madame de Moidrey knows that we are friends.... And, Philippa, you are very young to go into employment among strangers. Not that you cannot take care of yourself. But it is not a happy experience. Besides, a personal and sympathetic interest will be wanting—in the beginning at least. And that will mean loneliness for you——"
"It will mean it anyway if I am to leave you."
"But I shall see you at the Château——"
"For a little while yet. Then you will be going back to Paris. And then—what shall I do?"
The candid tragedy in her eyes appalled him.