“No, I am alone,” she answered. The little matter of an accent may be misleading, I grant you, but —’ He was interrupted, and with impatience. ‘To find what?’ demanded Gerald. (What was the name he had given her that day?) He was walking beside the chair upon which appeared to be a bundle of colours. So you, Jacques, must go and wait for me with the horse. “Why did you lie to that man?” he asked fiercely. Tears began to stream from her cheeks. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. No more.
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