That I should interrupt her in this way, and rush off when she was about to speak to me, fetched a sudden little cloud of astonishment over Yvonne’s face. But I would not be delayed. I made haste down the path and caught Anderson before he reached the gate. He paused with an air of genial surprise.
“Your pardon, monsieur,” said I; “but with your permission I will accompany you a few steps, as I have something to say to you.”
“I am glad to have your company, monsieur,” said he, with a manner that spoke sincerity.
“Are you?” said I abruptly. “Well, somehow I take your words as something more than the thin clink of compliment. I like you—I liked you the moment my eyes fell upon you.”
His face flashed into a rare illumination, and without a word he held out his hand.
I could not but smile responsively, though I thrust my hand behind my back and shook my head.
“Wait!” said I. “I want to say to you that—I love—I love Mademoiselle de Lamourie!”
His face clouded a little, and he withdrew his hand, but not angrily.
“We are very much of one mind in that, I assure you,” he said.
“The very ground she walks upon is sacred to me,” I continued.