"Is it nearly morning, M'sieur?"
"An hour until dawn," said Philip. "You have been sleeping a long
time--" Her name was on his lips, but he found it a little more
difficult to speak now. And yet there was a gentleness in Jeanne's
"M'SIEUR" which encouraged him. "Are you getting hungry?" he
asked.
"Pierre and my father always ask me that when THEY are starving,"
replied Jeanne, sitting erect in her nest so that Philip saw her
face and the shimmer of her hair. "There is everything to eat in
the pack, M'sieur Philip, even to a bottle of olives."
"Good!" cried Philip, delighted, "But won't you please cut out
that 'm'sieur?' My greatest weakness is a desire to be called by
my first name. Will you?"
"If it pleases you," said Jeanne. "There is everything there to
eat, and I will make you a cup of coffee, M'sieur--"
"What?"
"Philip."
There was a ripple of laughter in the girl's voice. Philip fairly
trembled.
"You were prepared for this journey," he said. "You were going to
leave after you saw me on the rock. I have been wondering why--why
you took enough interest in me--"
He knew that he was blundering, and in the darkness his face
turned red. Jeanne's tact was delightful.
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