“Your luck?” Sheena asked.
“Yes, my luck,” Mademoiselle Fontés repeated. She held the notecase tor a moment against her breast and then she said, looking down at it, “What can I give you to show how grateful I am?”
“Nothing! Nothing, of course,” Sheena said quickly. “I am only glad I was able to bring it back. And now I can go.”
She knew that the French girl had thought of rewarding her in money and it was not only pride but a vast embarrassment that carried her quickly to the door. But even as she reached it Mademoiselle Fontés was there before her.
“No, no!” she cried, putting her hand out to stop Sheena reaching the handle. “You must not go like that, I cannot let you! You have been so kind, so very kind. Please stay while I tell you how much this means to me.”
She hesitated a mome
