“I don’t,” Audrey protested. Nevertheless she recollected her thoughts on the previous night, near the binnacle and Mr. Gilman, about the indispensability of a man and about the futility of the state of not owning and possessing a man. The memory of these thoughts only rendered her more obstinate.
“But you will not have the courage to tell me that you are a fanatic?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“There is a third sort of woman.”
“Darling, believe me, there is not.”
“There’s going to be, anyhow!” said Audrey with decision, and in English. “And I won’t leave Jane Foley in the lurch, either!... Now I’ll just run up and have a talk with her, if you don’t mind waiting a minute or two.”
“But what are you going to do?” Madame Piriac demanded.
“Well,” said Audrey. “It is obvious that there is only one safe thing to do. I shall take Jane on board the yacht. We shall sail off, and she’ll be safe.”
“On the yacht!” repeated Madame Piriac, truly astounded. “But my poor oncle will never agree. You do not know him. You do not know how peculiar he is. Never will he agree! Besides——”