Both turned, half the room between them at the moment, and beheld
Aline in one of the long, open windows, arrested there in the act
of entering from the garden, Aline in a milk-maid bonnet of the
latest mode, though without any of the tricolour embellishments
that were so commonly to be seen upon them.
The thin lips of Andre's long mouth twisted into a queer smile.
Into his mind had flashed the memory of their last parting. He
saw himself again, standing burning with indignation upon the
pavement of Nantes, looking after her carriage as it receded down
the Avenue de Gigan.
She was coming towards him now with outstretched hands, a heightened
colour in her cheeks, a smile of welcome on her lips. He bowed low
and kissed her hand in silence.
Then with a glance and a gesture she dismissed Benoit, and in her
imperious fashion constituted herself Andre's advocate against that
harsh dismissal which she had overheard.
"Uncle," she said, leaving Andre and crossing to M. de Kercadiou,
"you make me ashamed of you! To allow a feeling of peevishness to
overwhelm all your affection for Andre!"
"I have no affection for him.
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