Boys, who was half asleep. Rose burst out laughing.
"Are you really going to bed?" asked Mme Des Boys; she looked tired. "I suppose I must stay here."
But she was soon bored. It was half past twelve. She tried to get her daughter to come.
"Ten minutes more, mother."
"All right, I'll leave you. I shall expect you in ten minutes."
M. Hervart got up.
"I give you ten minutes. Be indulgent with the child. All this fresh air has gone to her head."
M. Hervart felt embarrassed. A week ago such a tete-a-tete would have seemed the most innocent and perhaps, too, the most tedious of things.
"I really don't know what may happen. I must be serious, cold; I must try and look tired and antique...."
As soon as she heard her mother's footsteps in the room above the drawing-room, Rose came and sat down close to M. Hervart, put her hands on the arm of his chair. He looked at her, and there was something of madness in
