“Would there be much to erase in your life?”
“No ... not much so far.... And as one can’t....”
Lafcadio was silent a moment, and then: “All the same, it was because I wanted to make an erasure that I flung my pocket-book into the fire!... Too late—as you see! You must admit, however, that you didn’t understand what it was all about.”
No! Julius would never admit that.
“Will you allow me a few questions?” he said, by way of answer.
Lafcadio rose to his feet so abruptly that Julius thought he was going to make off on the spot; but he only went up to the window and, raising the muslin curtain:
“Is this garden yours?” he asked.
“M. de Baraglioul, I have hitherto allowed no one to pry in the smallest degree into my life,” went on Lafcadio without turning round. Then, as he walked back towards Julius, who had begun to take him for nothing more than a schoolboy: “But to-day is a red-letter day; for once in my life I will give myself a holiday. Put your questions—I undertake to answer them all.... Oh! let me tell you first that I have turned away that young baggage who showed you into my room yesterday.”
Julius thought it proper to put on an air of concern.