Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. ‘Oh, Marthe,’ she groaned, using in her accustomed way the French version of her nurse’s name, ‘that pig is going to monsieur le baron. I defy you to explain it away. ” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch. " "They're not half heavy enough," replied Wild. " "If only…. ” Her mind drifted into a speculation about her sister. Why hadn't he admitted that he recognized the photograph? What instinct had impelled him swiftly to assume his Oriental mask? "Why?" asked O'Higgins. “My dear boy,” she exclaimed. Anticipating this, Wild avoided the shot by suddenly, ducking his head.
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