He passed but a cursory glance over the formal certificate that identified the Frenchman before him as one André Valade, distant cousin to the Vicomte Valade. Inside was Anna, leaning a little forward to watch the passers-by, bright-eyed, full to the brim of the insatiable curiosity of youth—the desire to understand and appreciate this new world in which she found herself. She is the wife now of another man. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. The thing is done. A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again. To make Ruth pay for the whole shot! To wash away his sin by crucifying her: that was precisely what he had set about. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. ‘You damned little fool! How dared you steal my sword?’ Her eyes flew open. “He has said something of the sort.
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