‘I do not know your Gérard. And as she was yet waiting for her tea to come she saw this man again. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. Pause. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. She should have slapped him but she was in shock at her own thoughts of lust that arose. " "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly.
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