He appeared to be strangely uncommunicative, though I tried to draw him out. His vicious abusiveness vanished. “I’m thirsty. ’ Bitterness rose up as he looked at the female. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. Shall we sit outside and drink a petit verre of something to give us an appetite while dinner is being prepared?” “Certainly not,” she answered. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. I went to her rooms to-night. She had dreaded the beginning of this hour.
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