"It is a wonderful place, M'sieur Philip," replied the girl, holding up her hands to him. "But why should you guess it?"
"Because of you," laughed Philip. "I am half convinced that you take a wicked delight in bewildering me."
He found Jeanne a comfortable spot on the bank, brought her one of the bearskins, and began collecting a pile of dry reeds and wood.
"I am sure of it," he went on. He struck a match, and the reeds flared into flame, lighting up his face,
Jeanne gave a startled cry.
"You are hurt!" she exclaimed. "Your face is red with blood."
Philip jumped back.
"I had forgotten that. I'll wash my face."
He waded into the edge of the water and began scrubbing himself. When he returned, Jeanne looked at him closely. The fire illumined her pale face. She had gathered her beauti
