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The woman came to the middle of the room. "So, Monsieur D'Alloi," she
said in French, speaking very low and distinctly, "you thought it best
not to order your groom to turn me out, as you did that last day in
Paris, when you supposed your flight to America left you free to do as
you pleased? But you did not escape me. Here I am."
Watts sat down in an easy-chair, and striking a match, lighted a
cigarette. "That, Celestine," he said in French, "is what in English we
call a self-evident proposition."
Celestine's foot began to tap the floor, "You needn't pretend you
expected I would follow you. You thought you could drop me, like an old
slipper."
Watts blew a whiff of tobacco from his mouth. "It was a remark of
Ricard's, I believe, 'that in woman, one should always expect the
unexpected.'"
"_Mon Dieu_!" shrieked Celestine. "If I--if I could kill you--you--"
She was interrupted by Peter's bringing a chair to her and saying in
French, "Will you not sit down, please?"
She turned in surprise, for she had been too wrought up to notice that
Peter was in the room.


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