His abrupt changes of mood disconcerted
her. There seemed no accounting for what he might say next. He tossed a
curt order to a man whom she could discern crouching forward near the
engine.
"_Bien, m'sieu_," came the answer, and presently the motor-boat was
dexterously edging her way through the throng till she emerged into a clear
space and purred briskly towards the shore.
Once more the Englishman's hand closed firmly round Ann's as he helped her
out on to the little landing-stage.
"Good-bye," she said, a trifle nervously. "And thank you so much for coming
to my rescue."
Still retaining her hand in his, he stared down at her with those queerly
compelling eyes of his. She felt her breath coming and going unevenly. For
a moment he hesitated, as though deliberating some point within himself.
Then:
"Good-bye," he said. And his voice was utterly expressionless. It held not
even cordiality.
CHAPTER VIII
A LETTER FROM ENGLAND
The postman, entering through the garden gate which opened on to the
street, found Ann busily engaged in cutting flowers. He greeted her with a
smile, pleased to be saved the remainder of the distance to the house.
"_Bonjour, mademoiselle_.
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