‘Sapristi,’ he shouted angrily. To-morrow we'll raise our first island. How many nuns were there in England who might have occasion to spy on Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom? The presence of the French refugees took on greater significance. The place to which you went was not the English Embassy, and the whole performance was a fraud. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions. The odd creak was not to be avoided in an old house such as this. “The truth!” It was a moment of awkwardness between the two sisters —a moment, too, charged with its own psychological interest, for there were secrets between them which for many months had made their intercourse a constrained and difficult thing. “I think that I know very well what I am saying,” she answered.
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