‘Now then,’ said the captain sternly, ‘I’m not going to ask you what you’re doing here. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. " "No; she accepts it," rejoined Jonathan, triumphantly.
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