“Nor am I. Not for myself. But do you not see my point of view?”
“I have a pair of eyes in my head,” she retorted, “and in front of me I see my partner, Monsieur Paul Rance, whom I met when I was at Rennes.”
“Yes, all that sounds very pleasant, but——”
“Mon ami,” she broke in, “why are you in such a hurry to explain things to people, when no one has asked for explanations?”
She gave a push to the gig.
“Allons! You are afraid that Bibi will gossip, and that people will believe him. I am not going to be frightened by Bibi, simply because it amuses him to frighten people. Besides——”
Her brown eyes gave him a flash of buoyant audacity.
“You need not explain a thing that will appear obvious to decent people. And it is always possible for a man to change his mind.”
Brent was puzzled.
“I don’t understand you.”