Just as he reached them, the Comte de St Erme drew Valade a little apart and began to converse with him in rapid French. He shook his head. "'This is the way in which I will serve all who attempt to apprehend me. I believe I’m in love. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. ‘Who has begun this but you?’ Gerald barely heard her. There was nothing to be learned from her face. "I'm sorry," she said.
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