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She continued to fan herself. With a cry of distress, she dropped the pistol and flew after him, racing past him to the door. The scanty furniture of the rooms corresponded with their dungeon-like aspect. But he held the smile until she turned away from the curtain. "Don't mention it," returned Wood, in the conciliatory tone of one who admits he has been in the wrong; "your explanation is perfectly satisfactory. You only live a block away!” 236 “I’ll do my best. ’ The breathy laugh came, and Madame Valade abandoned her fan. On the other a wretched engraving of the Chevalier de Saint George, or, as he was styled in the label attached to the portrait, James the Third, raised a suspicion that the inmate of the house was not altogether free from some tincture of Jacobitism. There was, it might be said, a double illumination. “It is a great art,” she said in broken English. I will marry you when Sir John gets his divorce, and I will do all I can to keep you out of harm. “I’m still new to them.
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