From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened. Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury. Probably some woman on the loose; they were as thick as flies over here—dizzy blondes. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. ‘Gerald, what have you been about? Dorothée tells me that you were flirting outrageously with Madame Valade on Monday night. Could she understand what she was talking about? Luckily it was a second-class carriage and the ordinary fellowtravellers were not there.
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