“It is not long that we have now to talk. I beg you talk to me; do not be so sad.”
“I’m not sad.”
“Then talk.”
She gathered up her energy with a mighty effort.
“What shall we talk about?”
“Anything. Have you a letter to-day?”
“Yes.”
“From who? From Jack?”
“No, from the Marquis de W——.”
His fingers came together over her arm in a vice-like grip.