Sheppard, relieved by their departure, and giving way to a passionate flood of tears; "were it not for my child, I should wish to be in the place of that unfortunate lady. ‘Gerald, what have you been about? Dorothée tells me that you were flirting outrageously with Madame Valade on Monday night. That for the men lay near the Lodge, with which it was connected by a dark passage. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish.
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