She could not shake free from the memory of the friend who would be waiting for her on the morrow, drawing his pictures in the sand for the playfellow who would never see them--who would never, in fact, be his playfellow again.
Returning to the vestibule after dinner to listen to the band was almost more than she could bear; but still she could not frame an excuse, and still Jack noticed nothing.

He sent the boys to bed, but, as a matter of course, she remained with Mademoiselle.
They found a seat under some palms, and Jack ordered coffee.

He got on very well with Mademoiselle as with the rest of the world, and there seemed small prospect of an early retirement.

But at this juncture poor Chris began to get desperate.

She had refused the coffee almost with vehemence, and was on the point of an almost tearful entreaty to be allowed to go to bed, when suddenly a quiet voice spoke close to her.
"Excuse me, Forest! I have been trying to catch your eye for the past ten minutes.