The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes. ‘You are rude, and stupide, and altogether a person with whom I do not wish to speak. I keep it for my own drinking," he added in a lower tone. ‘And now,’ he said, drawing Madame to the seat, and contriving to sit close enough that his anatomy touched hers at several points, ‘let us talk about you, madame. In any event, I would not have let her escape me so easily. The fact itself is regrettable enough—regrettable, I fear, is quite an inadequate word. But she no longer obsessed over heresy, no longer did she feel cursed by God. Pale, flesh-colored light filtered in through the corners of the house. In the present case it did not matter, as there was no one else within earshot. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them.
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