Spit of your mother. ’ Gerald laughed. This is simply a chapter of coincidences. The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. Capes stood side by side upon an old Persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat and surveyed a shining dinner-table set for four people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequent gleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears. But they were too late.
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