Cautiously stepping outside, he looked up towards the terrace. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. The grim mockery of it!—those South Sea loafers, taking advantage of Enschede's Christianity and imposing upon him, accepting his money and medicines and laughing behind his back! No doubt they made the name a byword and a subject for ribald jest in the waterfront bars. I want to leave Paris to-day—this very day. ‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked. Only Leonardo, and then Jack, had shown her that she might be admired. From now on, you’re going to listen to me for a change.
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