Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. Larry kept digging heartily into his spaghetti, not intrigued in the slightest. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. "It is," replied Sheppard. He could talk to her as frankly as he could to a man, that she would not take offence at anything so long as it was in the form of explanation. " "Swear it!" "I do.
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