II
THE GOVERNMENT INTERFERES
“There is a short cut across that meadow,” said the young girl, raising a rounded, sun-tinted arm, bare to the shoulder.
“You are very kind,” said I, looking at her steadily.
“And, after that, you will come to a thicket of white birches.”
“Thank you, mademoiselle.”
“And after that,” she said, idly following with her blue eyes the contour of her own lovely arm, “you must turn to the left, and there you will cross a hill. You can see it from where we stand—”
She glanced at me over her outstretched arm. “You are not listening,” she said.