"You--here!"

"Been here a year--but you, when did you arrive? What luck! What luck!"

It was John Renard, the artist; after the first salutations question
followed question.

"Are you alone?--"

"No."

"Is she--young?"

"Yes."

"Pretty?"

"Judge for yourself--that is she--in the garden yonder."

The beret dipped itself perilously out into the sky--to take a full
view.

"Hem--I'll come in at once."

It was as a trio that the conversation was continued later, in the
garden. But Renard was still chief questioner.

"Have you been out on the mussel-beds?"