You are—or rather you were——” he corrected himself with an unpleasant little laugh, “Miss Pellissier, eh?” A little sensation followed upon his words. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. Gianfrancesco never suspected that I had my own reasons for wanting you for my wife. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. She walked through the walls. A quarter of an hour passed. The two went upstairs to Michelle's bedroom. .
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