understand, but she was nearer to understanding at that moment than she
had ever been before.




CHAPTER VIII

THE ENGLISHMAN


Chris returned quite soberly to the little house on the _plage_. The
morning's events had given her a good deal to think about. That any man
should deem it worth his while to fight a duel for her sake was a novel
idea that required a good deal of consideration. It was all very
difficult to understand, and she wished that Bertrand had told her more.
What could his adversary of the scowling brows have found to say about
her, she wondered? She had never so much as seen the man before. How had
he managed even to think anything unpleasant of her? Recalling Bertrand's
fiery eyes, she reflected that it must have been something very
objectionable indeed, and wondered how anyone could be so horrid.

These meditations lasted till she reached the garden gate, and here they
were put to instant and unceremonious flight, for little Noel hailed her
eagerly from the house with a cry of, "Hurry up, Chris! Hurry up! You're
wanted!"

Chris hastened in, to be met by her young brother, who was evidently in a
state of great excitement.