The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. Only she hadn’t. Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke. Why should he stare at her in this fashion?—for all the world as if she had pointed a pistol at his head? CHAPTER III He had said it, spoken it like that … his own name! After all these weeks of trying to obliterate even the memory of it!… to have given it to this girl without her asking! The thought of peril cleared a space in the alcoholic fog. Opposite, his pupil stood with bowed head and clasped hands. About halfway across this interval, when everything seemed going well, Capes had a shock. She felt terrible lying to him. He boasted of her ability to learn to men who were a stone’s throw from having the power of the pope himself.
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