“I have spoken too many truths to-night. Alors, one must steel oneself. ’ ‘But two letters,’ put in the woman. Not fit to be dust on your boots. The same night he met Meddoes and Drummond together, the latter over from Paris on a week’s leave from the Embassy. ‘She means thanks to you, General,’ Gerald translated automatically, forgetful of his old commander’s fiery temper. I do not blame you for the act. She felt surges of longing escape every corner of her flesh. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it.
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