He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. At least I imagine so, if what Madame Valade claims is true. Nine years ago, I worked in this very house—had a kind indulgent master, whom I robbed—twice robbed, at your instigation, villain; a mistress, whom you have murdered; a companion, whose friendship I have for ever forfeited; a mother, whose heart I have well-nigh broken. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. I suppose I believe in God. E. He jumped back, cursing. Her head ached with a hollow pain.
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