270 “Curse that boy!” He chuckled and stomped the water. He walked out into the Champs Elysées and sat down. “You ought at once—you ought at once to have told her that. ‘Well! I hadn’t no notion as he’d got hisself married again. Keeping to the shadow of the house, he crept forward until he could see better without, he hoped, being seen. I have it on my conscience that I offended you—” “Offended me when?” “I’ve been haunted by the memory of you. Heaven alone knows why. “My heart, my dove, I only want to heal you. This is a noted place for highwaymen. A little Madeira seemed to recover her enough to resume the discussion. Your history, your actions, nay, your very thoughts are better known to me than to your spiritual adviser. Still, one never could tell.
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