“Miss Pellissier,” he said, “I am going to take a liberty. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. Just speak the word," he added, drawing the knife significantly across his throat, "and I'll put it out of his power to do the same by your second. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. “It does nothing but sit there. It may be treacherous, it may lay up a store of future woe; but it insures present happiness, and that is sufficient.
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