admirable self-restraint, for he banished the frown almost immediately.

"Mademoiselle has been bathing, yes?" he questioned briskly. "But it is a
splendid morning for a swim. And le bon Cinders also! How he is droll, ce
bon Cinders!"

He snapped his fingers airily under the droll one's nose, and flashed his
sudden smile into her face of distress.

"_Eh bien_!" he said. "_L'affaire est finie_. Let us go."

He stuck his weapon into the sand and left it there. Then, without
waiting to don his coat, he turned and walked away with her with his
light, elastic swagger that speedily widened the distance between himself
and his vanquished foe.

Chris walked beside him in silence, Cinders still tucked under her arm.
She knew not what to say, having no faintest clue to his real attitude
towards her at that moment. He had ignored her apology so jauntily that
she could not venture to renew it.

She glanced at him after a little to ascertain whether smile or frown had
supervened. But both were gone. He looked back at her gravely, though
without reproof.

"Poor little one!" he said. "It frightened you, no?"

She drew a deep breath. "Oh, Bertie, what were you doing?"

"I was fighting," he said.