" "Liar!" cried Jack. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. Wasn’t it—a little bit of a scene?” “Oh! let me see. “Don’t think that I have been playing the spy upon you,” he continued. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. “Go on!” “You know—in Paris they coupled my name with some one’s—an Englishman’s. ’ ‘Aha, you have found something out. “Child!” he cried. He looked at her, hurt. We have known men who have come here for no other purpose than to prove their unassailable virtue, who have strode into the arena of temptation, waving the—the what is it—the white flower of a blameless life, only to exchange it with marvellous facility for the violets of the Parisienne. Sheppard," said Jonathan, looking calmly on at this distressing scene, "Attend to me, and do not heed him. Yet, I suppose that at the present moment I am the most envied man in the room.
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