‘Maman?’ ‘How touching,’ said a sarcastic voice behind her in French. As she stared her eyes grew accustomed to the night; and she discovered five persons instead of four. She is called Madame Ibstock, you understand. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. There were menacing possibilities; the thought of them set him a-tremble. His pipe hung dead in his teeth, but the smoke was dense about him.
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