I had left Paris. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. She did not forge a note. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. Of course I know nothing of what really did happen in Paris—if even you ever saw him there. She was definitely following him. “I’m a big boy, you know.
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