“Were you thinking of private apartments, a boarding-house or an hotel?” she asked. The other kicked over the traces a bit, made rather a hit with her singing at some of those French places, and went the pace in a mild, ladylike sort of way. The misty caravans of which she had dreamed were become actualities. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. Even were she to get an opportunity to scream, it would be some time before such a call, unprecedented though it might be, brought the nuns so much out of their absorption that they interrupted their prayer to investigate. Why do you think I’m indulging in all this very un-English love talk?’ ‘But you are idiot, Gérard.
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