One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. ‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. The girl only smiled at him serenely, but she laid her hand for a moment quietly upon his. “She finds lying up so much very irksome. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. “A man who does not touch his wife, who ignores his wife, what kind of man is he? I am not sick any more. . . She was an Egyptian, from the magical times. ” “You have not answered my question,” he reminded her. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. Would it be Thérèse?’ She shook her head.
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