But it was only six-thirty. . ’ ‘Dieu du ciel,’ burst from mademoiselle as she jumped up. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. Now, let’s get down to business. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. ‘You are jealous!’ ‘Yes,’ he agreed simply. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me.
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