It was Deloche. They had not seen him at the further end of the front room, where he was dining alone, after having come from Paris on foot, for the pleasure of the walk. On recognising this friendly voice, Denise, suffering, yielded mechanically to the want of some support.
"Monsieur Deloche, come back with us," said she. "Give me your arm."
Pauline and Baugé had already gone on in front. They were astonished, never thinking it would turn out like this, and with this fellow above all. However, as there was still an hour before the train started, they went to the end of the island, following the bank, under the tall poplars; and, from time to time, they turned round, murmuring: "But where are they? Ah, there they are. It's rather funny, all the same."
At first Denise and Deloche remaine
