"Ay, to business," returned Jonathan, grinning, "the sooner the better. He rose slowly and extended it. ‘No mistaking you this time. Paris is not the place for two young girls. ” “Well?” “Lunch! I am hungry—tragically hungry. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. As usual, however, on the occasion of any great calamity, a crowd was scouring the streets, whose sole object was plunder. It was not a hopeful looking group. “Mr. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers.
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