Then the moth plunged for the light, about which she had been desperately fluttering this nervous while.
“You mentioned of your nursing someone? or perhaps I confused your meaning?”
“Ay, did I. You know him. Saint-Péray.”
The other put her away and got hurriedly to her feet.
“You’re nursing him! You?”
“He brought him to me—told me to; told me to help him back to be a man, and win you yet.”
“Who brought him? Who told you?”
“There: I wasn’t to speak his name.”
“Nursing him? Where?”
“Why, in the little villa that he keeps for me.”