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‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. She laid her hand upon his arm. Her tone was hoarse with passion. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. All the best novels have been written by women, and yet see how men sneer at the lady novelist still! There’s only one way to get on for a woman, and that is to please men. “About my sister,” she repeated slowly. She isn't used to cities. ’ Then she ran swiftly out of the library, calling out as her cavalier was almost at the front door. Wood glanced at the hardy offender, and not liking the expression of his countenance, thought it advisable to postpone the execution of his threats to a more favourable opportunity. . ‘And since the entire company and Pottiswick himself were unable to find hide nor hair of the infernal French female—’ ‘English, Hilary,’ Gerald reminded him.
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