The movement was fatal to her son. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. “Martin, I don’t know what to say. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. ” “I resent!” “I was only sorry I’d been so stupid.
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