She nodded, not looking at him.

He laid his hand for an instant upon hers.  “Thank you, Chris,” he said.

She turned instantly and smiled upon him.  “You can give it to Bertie if you don’t like it,” she made blithe response.

CHAPTER XIII

PALS

“Ah! now for a good talk,” said Chris.  “We have got at least half an hour.  Are you tired, Bertie, or only bored?”

But he was neither, he assured her.  He had enjoyed his evening greatly.  No, he had not danced.  He had found it enough diverting to look on tranquilly in a corner. Mais oui, everybody had been most kind, including his hostess, to whom he paid a special tribute of appreciation.  He had found her as gracious as she was beautiful.

“Did she try to pump you?” asked Chris.

He raised his brows in humorous bewilderment.  But to pump—­what was it?  To ask questions?  Ah yes, she had asked him several questions.  He had not answered all of them.  He feared she had found him a little stupid.  But she had been very patient with him, ah! so patient—­he spread out his hands, with the old, quick smile, and Chris’s peal of laughter echoed far and wide.

“Bertie, you’re too heavenly for words!  Then she didn’t find out about Valpre?  She thinks—­I suppose she thinks—­that Trevor introduced us to each other.”

“I do not know what she thinks,” the Frenchman made answer.  “But no, we did not speak of Valpre!  That is a secret, hein?”

“Not exactly a secret.  I told Max.  But Aunt Philippa—­oh, she is so different.  She never understands things,” said Chris.  “I daresay she will find out from Trevor as it is; but I hope she won’t—­I do hope she won’t!”

He smiled comprehendingly.  “But Mr. Mordaunt—­he understands, yes?” he said.

She hesitated.  “I never told even him about that night in the Magic Cave, Bertie.”

“No?” he said, his quick eyes upon her.  “But why not?”

She shook her head with vehemence.  “I couldn’t.  Everyone—­even Jack—­made such a fuss at the time—­as if—­as if”—­she turned crimson—­“I had done something really wicked.  I’m sure I don’t know why.  I always said so.”

There was defiance as well as distress in her voice.  Bertrand leaned a little towards her.

“Mr. Mordaunt would not think like that,” he said, with conviction.

She looked at him dubiously.  “I’m not so sure.  He has extraordinary views on some things.  I never quite know how he will take anything.  Other people are the same.  You are the only person I am quite sure of.”

He smiled, but not as if greatly elated.  “That is because we are pals,” he said.

“Yes, I know.  It’s good to have a pal who understands.”  Chris spoke a little wistfully, but almost instantly dismissed the matter.  “Why, I am forgetting!  You haven’t seen Cinders yet, and I told him you were coming.  He is upstairs.  Shall we go and find him?”