He had reacted by laughing at her, informing her coolly that she was naïve in many things. "My wife and daughter, Sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. “Dear friend,” she said, “do not magnify me into a physiological problem. Why should he stare at her in this fashion?—for all the world as if she had pointed a pistol at his head? CHAPTER III He had said it, spoken it like that … his own name! After all these weeks of trying to obliterate even the memory of it!… to have given it to this girl without her asking! The thought of peril cleared a space in the alcoholic fog. F. Lucy could feel blood welling underneath a bump half swelling and already half-healing on her scalp. Never mind.
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