“You don’t see a little bit in the world, she retorted with a sudden laugh. “You’re utterly mystified.”
“I’m not,” he declared stoutly. “Why on earth shouldn’t you have a love affair?”
“I thought you insinuated that none of your ‘fellow men’ would look at me twice.”
He contracted his brows and regarded her steadily. “I’m beginning to get tired of this argument,” said he.
Her eyes drooped first. “Perhaps you really have progressed a bit since we started.”
“I was doing my best to tell you, when you switched off onto this idiot circuit.”
Suddenly she put out her hand. “Don’t let us quarrel, Martin. What has been joy and wonder to you has been merely an anodyne to me. I’m about the most miserable girl in France.”
“I wish you had told me something of this before,” said Martin, “because I’ve been feeling myself the happiest man. . . .”
CHAPTER IV
THERE is six o’clock striking and those English have not yet arrived.”