Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. The vicomte has, he say, enough femmes in his hands. ” “Girls!” cried Ann Veronica. “Mere sensuality. ” “Oh, well!” he said, a little doubtfully, “it’s just a phase,” and bent down and rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, with his heart beating and his nerves a-quiver. Either we go forth together, or they shall bury me. I know you. O God! O God!" And he appeared convulsed with agony. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill.
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