Maurice was puzzled.
"Lieutenant," said the girl, "Monsieur--Carewe ?" turning to Maurice.
"Yes, that is the name." "Well, then, Monsieur Carewe has met with an accident; please escort him to the gate.

I trust you will not suffer any inconvenience from the cold.

Good evening, Monsieur Carewe." She retraced her steps down the path.

The bulldog followed.

Once he looked back at Maurice, and stopped as if undecided, then went on.
Maurice stared at the figure of the girl until it vanished behind a clump of rose bushes.
"Well, Monsieur Carewe!" said the Lieutenant, a broad smile under his mustache.
"I beg your pardon, Lieutenant.