” “Let us say that Café Maston, in the Boulevard des Italiennes, at half-past seven then,” he decided. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. Get on with it, then. ‘What is it that you told him?’ ‘Nothing, miss, I swear. . . ’ ‘I’m coming to that. Things haven't gone quite as smoothly as I anticipated; but they might have been worse. ’ Gerald grinned. ] CHAPTER XI The second call energized her into action. . S. The place pulsed with music too loud to converse above.
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