Mademoiselle was more nearly genial than Chris had ever seen her.

She did not even scold her for taking an early dip.

At the time Chris was too busy to wonder at her forbearance; but she discovered the reason later, without the preliminary of wondering, when she came to know that it was Mademoiselle's urgent representations at headquarters regarding her own delinquencies that had impelled this sudden summons.
The thought of meeting her cousin added zest to the situation.

Though ten years her senior, Jack Forest had long been the best chum she had--he was best chum to a good many people.
Only when by strenuous effort they had managed to catch the one and only train that could land them at Rennes in time for the Paris express, only when the cliffs and the dear blue shore where she had idled so many hours away were finally and completely left behind, did a sudden stab of realization pierce Chris, while the quick words that her playmate of the beach had uttered only that morning flashed torch-like through her brain.
Then and only then did she remember him, her _preux chevalier_, her faithful friend and comrade, whose name she had never heard, whom she had left without word or thought of farewell.
So crushing was her sense of loss, that for a few seconds she lost touch with her surroundings, and sat dazed, white-faced, stricken, not so much as asking herself what could be done.

Then one of the boys shouted to her to come and look at something they were passing, and with an effort she jerked herself back to normal things.
Having recovered her balance, she managed to maintain a certain show of indifference during the hours that followed, but she looked back upon that journey to Paris later as one looks back upon a nightmare.