“Why?” he asked, suavely. ” “Let us say that Café Maston, in the Boulevard des Italiennes, at half-past seven then,” he decided. The entrance was concealed between two huge boulders within a clump of trees, and was now so overgrown that no one who did not know of its existence could ever hope to find it. If he took a fancy to you, he invited you to the house for tea, bitter and yellow and served in little cups without handles. Let me make your future for you. Bête, she told herself fiercely. She would not be driven in by this persistent, sneaking aggression. And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor.
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