. . She turned to face him and he kissed her. She remembered abruptly that she was really living upon his money. He was every bit as much a pig as this Emile. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them. They are very good people, you know. He was damned if he knew what to do. ‘And now, monsieur le major—’ ‘I will see you to the door,’ Gerald said, looking with interest at the building that his observant groom had told him housed a small collection of nuns. “I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man.
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