his own volition would he probe more deeply into this mystery, take one farther step into the intricacies of its maze.
So, in silence, he waited, passively courteous, at her further service if she had need of him, content if she had not, tolerant of her tacit prayer for time in which to think a way out of her difficulties.
After some few moments he grew uncomfortably aware that he had become the object of a speculative regard not at all unfavourable.
He indulged in a mental gesture of resignation.
Then what he had feared befell, not altogether as he had apprehended, but in the girl's own fashion, if without material difference in the upshot.
"I am afraid," said she in an even voice, so quietly pitched as to be inaudible to any eavesdropper. "This becomes a task greater than I had dreamed, more than my wits can cope with. Monsieur Duchemin. …"
She hesitated. He bowed slightly. "If mademoiselle can make any use of my poor abilities, she has but to command me."
"We—I have much to thank you for already, monsieur, much more than I can ever hope to reward adequately"
"Reward?" he echoed. "But, mademoiselle!"
"Please don't misunderstand." She flushed a little, very prettily. "I am simply trying to express my sense of obligation, not only for what you have already done, but for what I mean to ask you to do."
Again he bowed, without comment, amiably receptive.
