They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects. She did not resist him, she could not. ’ The breathy laugh came, and Madame Valade abandoned her fan. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. “I never planned it—And now I have begun—” She felt acutely that he was entitled to explanations, and as acutely that explanations were impossible that night. Had she expected to wed Valade herself? Had the fellow broken a vow of betrothal, or abandoned her? He must find out more. “David Courtlaw!” she repeated.
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