Fitzgerald dismissed the thought of him; at the most he could have been but an accomplice, one to unlock the cellar-window.
While Breitmann lingered near Laura, offering what signs of admiration he dared, and while the admiral chatted to his country neighbors who were gathered round the tea-table, Fitzgerald and M.Ferraud were braced against the terrace wall, a few yards farther on, and exchanged views on various peoples.
"America is a wonderful country," said M.Ferraud, when they had exhausted half a dozen topics.

He spread out his hands, Frenchman-wise.
"So it is." Fitzgerald threw away his cigarette.
"And how foolish England was over a pound of tea." "Something like that." "But see what she lost!" with a second gesture.
"In one way it would not have mattered.

She would patronize us as she still does." "Do you not resent it, this patronizing attitude ?" "Oh, no--we are very proud to be patronized by England," cynically.
"It's a fine thing to have a lord tell you that you wear your clothes jolly well." "I wonder if you are serious or jesting." "I am very serious at this moment," said Fitzgerald quietly catching the other by the wrist and turning the palm.
M.Ferraud looked into his face with an astonishment on his own, most genuine.

But he did not struggle.

"Why do you do that ?" "I am curious, Mr.Ferraud, when I see a hand like this.