are not ambitious, then?"

He threw himself back against the rock, and with the movement a certain
tension went out of the atmosphere--a tension of which she had been
vaguely aware almost without knowing it.

"Ah, yes, I am ambitious," he said. "I am a builder. I have my work to
do. And I shall succeed. I shall make that which all the world will envy.
I shall be famous." He broke off to laugh exultantly. "Oh, it will be
good--good!" he said. "One does not often reach the summit while one is
yet young. There are times when it seems too wonderful to be true; and
yet I know--I know!"

"Is it a gun?" said Chris.

"Yes, _mignonne_, a gun! It is also a secret--thine and mine."

She uttered a faint sigh. "I wish it wasn't a gun, Bertie. If it were
only an aeroplane, or something that didn't hurt anyone! Of course, you
are a soldier and a Frenchman. I couldn't expect you to understand."

He laughed rather ruefully. "But I understand all. And you do not love
the French? No?"

"Not so very much," said Chris honestly. "Of course, I'm not being
personal. I liked you from the first."

"Ah! But really?" he said.

"Yes, really; and so did Cinders. He always knows when people are nice.
We shall miss you quite a lot when we go home."

"Quite a lot!" Bertrand repeated the phrase musingly as if questioning
with himself how much it might mean.

"Yes," she went on, "we were so lonely till you came." She broke off to
yawn. "Do you know, I'm beginning to get sleepy. Is it the spell, do you
think, or only the dark?"

"It is not the spell," he said, with conviction.

"No?" She moved uneasily. "I'm not very comfy," she remarked. "I wish I
were like Cinders. He can sleep in any position. It must be so
convenient."

"Will you, then, lean on my shoulder?" Bertrand suggested, with a touch
of diffidence.

She accepted the offer with alacrity. "Oh, yes, if you don't mind. It
would be better than nodding one's head off, as if one were in church,
wouldn't it? But what of you? Aren't you sleepy at all?"

"I have no desire to sleep," he told her gravely.

"Haven't you?" Chris's head descended promptly upon his shoulder. "I've
never been up all night before," she said. "It feels so funny. How the
sea roars! I wish it wouldn't. Bertie, you're sure there isn't such a
thing as a dragon really, aren't you?"

His hand closed fast upon hers. "I am quite sure, _cherie_."

"Thank you. That's nice," she murmured. "I haven't said my prayers.