’ The woman shrugged helpless shoulders, looking to her husband. “Yes I did. ’ Madame ventured a glance up at his face, and fluttered her lashes. Living’s just material. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. 132 “I thought you wanted me—you told me so when we kissed in the park!” He cried. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. E.
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